


The Same Coin

by nutellaismymiddlename



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Automail, Canon Rewrite, Creepy Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Dominant Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), F/M, Genei Ryodan - Freeform, Heaven's Arena Arc (Hunter X Hunter), Meteor City | Ryuuseigai (Hunter X Hunter), Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Sexual Violence, Thief Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Winry Rockbell-centric, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City (Hunter X Hunter), phantom troupe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 80
Words: 115,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutellaismymiddlename/pseuds/nutellaismymiddlename
Summary: When Winry undertakes a perilous journey to Yorknew City, she had not intended to attract the attention of the likes of the Phantom Troupe. She had not wanted to become Hisoka’s protege of Nen. But as the Troupe peels back her layers, Winry will find something unspeakable and bent lurking within herself — that even the Elrics may not be able to protect her from.
Relationships: Buccaneer/Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter)/Winry Rockbell, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Winry Rockbell, Winry Rockbell/Other(s), Zolf J. Kimblee/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 31
Kudos: 68
Collections: Fullmetal Alchemist, Hunter x Hunter





	1. I Could Go

__

_This is my first fanfic, and first attempt at a non-original work in general. I would love feedback as the story progresses. I've decided to base this off FMAB and the 2011 HXH anime series, and begins ~1 year before the events of HXH. While I won't claim to be intimately familiar with the source material, the idea came to me and I just had to run with it._

# # #

Rush Valley had been the window of opportunity Winry had never realized she'd desired until she was here. The busy streets teemed with her favorite types: automail connoisseurs, automail users, and those who needed automail still. Everyone in this young, booming city was drawn together and united by those tap and die threads. It was as though all of Rush Valley had reached a mutual understanding and harmonized around it. Rush Valley was a place Winry saw herself someday owning her own shop, taking on her own apprentices, retiring, and eventually dying.

"The modifications are finished," Winry said, bending to take the appointment log from beneath the counter. "When can we schedule connecting?"

Becker, one of Mx. Garfiel's clients, tapped a finger on the counter. "Any openings for Saturday?"

"Mx. Garfiel can see you that morning."

"Alright then, Winry, pencil it in."

She nodded obligingly as she did, then saw Becker out the door before locking it. The shop across the street turned their sign from _OPEN to CLOSED_ as she did, and the shopkeep gave her a wave. Rush Valley had welcomed her with open arms — real and prosthetic alike. Leaving Resembool had always seemed like such an insurmountable idea until she had actually done it. She hadn't even been trying to leave her small town when she first came here with Edward and Alphonse, but once she'd arrived and seen the high quality work, Winry had known she needed to stay to learn as much as she could.

"Everything is locked up," she announced as she headed to the workshop in the back of the building, but hushed when she saw Garfiel on the shop phone.

She took a hand broom from its hook and began to sweep down the surfaces, catching the dirty and slivers of metal shavings in the dustpan while she waited for them to finish.

"What do you mean _no one_ ] is accepting the job? I'm offering premium pay," Garfiel lamented. "Find someone or else return the advance I paid for your services."

Winry glanced up as Garfiel return the phone to the receiver, and gave a weighty sigh before waving a hand at her.

"Nothing, nothing," Garfield dismissed. "I hired a headhunter to find someone to go on a business trip for me, but they haven't found any interested candidates and it's been weeks."

"A trip to where?"

Garfield looked abashed, dark eyes averting to one side while biting their lip. "It's an overseas voyage to the United States of Saherta."

Her eyebrows furrowed, dumping the dustpan of debris into a bin before perching herself on a corner of a workbench. She idly took the wrench from her pocket and let it swing from her fingertips. "I haven't heard of it. Why won't anyone take the job? Is it that far away?"

"The position is listed across Amestris, but most often I hire someone from Xing — the trip is shorter from there. It's two weeks by ship to port."

"I see. That's not great but it isn't the worst. Are you paying enough?"

Garfiel's nose rose into the air and their arms crossed over their chest in offense.

"I'm actually offering almost twice what I was last year, but the person hired by the agency last year died and word got around. No one is willing to take the job now."

Her wrench ceased in its pendulum sway.

"Was the death…violent?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ah—" Garfiel covered their mouth with a hand, eyes roving up to the ceiling to think before responding. Winry frowned. That face didn't bode well. It was Garfiel's expression when trying to lighten the blow.

"They were attacked for reasons unknown. The cause of death wasn't able to be determined, even by the coroner in Central. No one's really even sure what happened during the attack. My envoy fought with someone the day before leaving, but then immediately began to grow weak. They died on the ship back to Xing. We thought it was probably poison, but there was no sign of a cause when the remains were evaluated."

"Well, I could go," Winry offered. "I'd been thinking about going to Central to see Ed and Al, and the Hughes' anyway. I wouldn't mind going to Saherta for you instead."

"It's too dangerous," Garfiel objected with a shake of their head.

"How so? It sounds like whoever you hired last year just got into trouble with the wrong person. I wouldn't get into anything." She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "What do you send them to get anyway?"

"The United States of Saherta isn't like Amestris, Winry. Their technology is different. I haven't gone myself, but I'm told that they have carriers that fly through the sky, and towers higher than anything that's been built here or in any of the surrounding countries." Garfiel's tone took on a note of warning. "Their science is different, too. They don't use alchemy, but…something else."

Winry's eyes went wide and sparkling. Ed and Alphonse always told her about the new places they'd gone and the things they'd seen while traveling with the military, and already she could imagine herself boasting to them in return. The next time Ed would come in to replace his arm — again — she could tell him about the flying crafts of Saherta, and everything else she'd see there. Goosebumps rose on the nape of her neck.

"Are you sure you're trying to talk me out of it?" she teased. "What were you having someone go there for?"

"There's a silent street auction that goes on. I have someone go to pick out items that might translate into automail designs I can use. I also have them watch for any automail that goes up for sale, but none has been found there yet. It seems no one in Saherta uses automail at all."

"No…automail?"

The color and joy drained from her face. She couldn't imagine life without automail. What did people do instead when they lost limbs? Surely their culture had _something_ as an automail equivalent. Garfiel laughed at her expression.

"I knew you wouldn't want to go when you heard that."

"No! I'll go," she said quickly, brightening. "It just means I'll be the best automail builder there."

"Are you sure?" Garfiel's brow perked high. "You'd need to travel on a trade route through the desert area to reach a port in Xing — it would be at least another week of travel on top of two weeks by ship."

"If you think you can handle the workload without me, I have no objections," Winry said. "I can see my grandmother when I pass through to Xing."

Garfiel waved a hand. "You'd better get packing then. I'll call the headhunters and tell them to cancel the ad — not that it was working anyway — then make travel arrangements. I'll give you money for a hotel while you're there, too, but if you want someplace nicer it'll come out of your own pocket."

"That's fine!"

"You'll want to convert currency in Xing, too, before you leave port. They don't use Cen in Saherta, they use Jenī instead."

Winry was already nodding again though as she hopped off the workbench, sliding her wrench into her pocket. She sensed none of Garfiel's apprehension as she slipped by him, heading to her room upstairs, wondering already about what things she would discover across the sea.


	2. Send You a Telegram

Garfiel flagged Winry down as she returned down the street, her arms overflowing with bags. She was quick to spot Garfiel's arm waving in the air, already standing a head taller than the crowd ambling down the street, and hurried her steps to reach the shop.

"Winry!" Garfiel called when she was within earshot. "That Elric boy is on the phone for you!"

"Ed?" Winry asked, and Garfiel gave her a wink that made her flush. Garfiel held the door ajar and she squeezed through with her bags, then headed to the phone in the back workshop. She let an armful of bags slide to the ground then picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, Winry! I received a telegram that you called? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Winry said with a smile as she set down the rest of her bags, then sat down on the stool beside her workbench. "Great, actually. How are you? Where are you that they had to send you a telegram?"

"I'm—" He paused, and Winry's lips flattened together.

"What kind of trouble have you gotten into now?"

"I'm not in trouble! Al and I are just visiting our teacher in Dublith."

"Oh." She quieted, twisting the cord to the phone around her finger. She remembered how, when Ed and Al had first met Izumi, they'd vanished for an entire month before they sent her a letter to let her and her grandmother know they were in Dublith. "Do you think you'll be there long?"

"I'm not sure. Why were you calling? Normally it's me calling you to tell you I need repairs," Ed said with a laugh.

"Garfiel needs someone to go across the sea and I volunteered."

"Across the sea?" Ed repeated slowly. "Can't someone else go?"

"Garfiel has been trying to hire someone but no one is taking the job, so I offered. It's to check out some silent auction style market for automail!" He didn't respond. "Ed? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Well, what do you think? I just finished shopping for the trip. I bought—"

"I don't think you should go," Ed said, his tone souring.

"What? Why?"

"I just don't think it's safe for you to travel that far on your own. You're going across the sea, and if something were to happen — Where are you even going?"

"Why's it matter where I'm going?" Winry huffed. "I travel on my own all the time. I go back to Resembool, I travel out to Central to see you."

"You've never gone across the sea though, Winry. It's completely different — you're going to a different country. Do they even speak the same language?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm going to be fine. I didn't call you so you could argue with me about going, I called so you could be excited for me. I am going, Edward."

Winry hung up the phone, turning her nose up in annoyance. It began ringing almost immediately, and Garfiel's head poked in.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

She waved a hand at it as she stood up and began picking her bags up from where she'd laid them. "It's just Ed. He's being overprotective."

Garfiel only gave her a wink, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh please," Winry said.

Garfiel laughed and took an envelope from the pocket of the leather work apron, handing it to her as the phone ceased ringing. Her eyes rose with curiosity.

"It's the tickets!" Garfield said with excitement. "But it's a lot of tickets. You leave tomorrow afternoon. You'll travel by trains to Resembool then a stagecoach into Xing, where another train will take you to the port in Xiamen. The _Kaijinmaru_ will take you to the United States of Saherta."

"Then the air carrier?" Garfiel nodded, and Winry held the envelope tight. She beamed. "So tomorrow it is."


	3. Maycape

"How much further is the airport?" Winry asked the driver. Her body was quivering with excitement, staring out the windows of the car.

The journey had taken three weeks. She'd transferred trains in Dublith and Resembool, and she was somewhat grateful that she hadn't had time to see Edward and Alphonse while she was waiting for the train to Resembool. She knew if she saw Ed in person that it was possible he would succeed in talking her out of going — or he'd drag her into whatever trouble he was involved in now.

It felt like every time she turned around, the trouble Ed and Al got themselves into was more and more serious. She'd thought they had peaked when they'd attempted to bring back Trisha, their mother, but they just loved to prove her wrong. It was her chance to turn the table and be the one doing something exciting — this trip would be exciting in the safest way possible. Ed's apprehension was unfounded, and she would show him that.

The sea had been vast and felt endless, just miles of rippling water in every direction. It'd made her feel small, and she was too aware the entire time of how easily the waves could swallow them up. The air tasted like salt. The ship had made several other stops at other ports before finally heading south to Saherta.

This port city was unlike anything Winry had ever seen. Fishing vessels had been heading out of the bay as the _Kaijinmaru_ had sailed in, and the fishermen had waved at the ship gliding by. Taxis had been lined up on the street near the docks, and the elderly driver had given her a warm, welcoming smile as she climbed in.

Ed's concerns were wholly misplaced.

"The airport is about fifteen minutes away," the driver said. "Where are you taking an airship to?"

"An _airship!"_ Winry repeated in awe. "How do they work?"

He laughed. "Don't have them where you're from, huh? They have a ballonet — a bag of air inside the outer shell — that controls the ship's ability to lift. It fills with helium, which gives the ship its lift. The engine provides thrust, and there's a rudder to steer. It's a whole science," the driver said, still chuckling. "I used to service them when I was a younger man."

"Tell me everything!" she said, leaning as far forward as the seatbelt would allow. She listened intently to every detail until the driver nodded his head to the East.

"There's the airport, downhill."

Winry whirled around to the window, her eyes widening comically as her mouth gaped open. An _airport._ She swallowed the sight whole. The airships were unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and her fingers curled as she studied their build. Six airships were lined up in an open lot, with a seventh landed on top of the building. People were climbing a ramp to board.

She paid the driver and leapt out of the car, hauling her bags behind her. They checked her identification then let her into the building. Winry gave them her ticket at the counter along with her bags, then headed for the lounge the attendant directed her to.

A digital sign on the wall stated, _DEPARTURES — MAYCAPE TO YORKNEW CITY 10:45AM._

Winry sat herself on a bench, tucking a leg underneath her to look out the window as the airship that had been on the roof took flight, before turning her eyes across her travel companions.

There were several couples, and a few mothers with their children. It was mostly lone travelers, however, each preoccupied with their own business. Her eyes lingered on a small group at the far end of the bench she sat on.

A woman sat, looking utterly disinterested in her environment. Her blonde hair had a severe part down the center of her scalp, and she stared down her prominent nose at the floor. A young teenager, also blonde but his hair in a bowl cut, sat beside her, looking around cheerfully. At the very end of the bench was a pair of men who Winry would have guessed to be only a few years older than herself.

One man — broad shouldered but lithe and dressed in black — sat in the space that remained. His button-up shirt was undone at the throat and his tie hung loose. There were bandages wrapped around his forehead, and his black hair fell around his face. A pair of jade pendant earrings hung from his ears. His expression, though unearthly in its beauty, was void of anything as his grey eyes slowly roved his surroundings.

Beside him though, and the most conspicuous of their small group, was a tall, built man. His pale face was comprised of handsome, sharp angles, and beneath his right eye was a yellow star. Underneath the left was a blue tear. He had a smirk that was not quite bored, but also not entertained by anything apparent. Fiery red hair was styled so it flared upward. The dark man beside him was expressionless, but this man's amber eyes gleamed as though amused by a private joke. He was dressed in white pants with a sleeveless black cropped shirt that bore both a heart and a spade. Red torques around his biceps and wrists emphasized his physique.

Even letting her eyes linger on their group too long made Winry uncomfortable, and she studied them with her peripheral vision as she turned to look out the window at the airships again. They occupied themselves, not even interacting with one another.

Another airship rose and flew over the building, and she glanced at her watch — that was likely the ship she would be on. Her heart raced. That one. That would be the one she'd be boarding.

When the announcement finally came, it took all of her self-control to not bolt to the gate. Winry would never be sure how she managed to rise to her feet and calmly walk over to it instead, but she did. The others in the lobby joined her, with the unnerving group of four directly behind her. The fine hair on the back of her neck rose. She ignored it — she wouldn't allow anything to interfere with this moment. She was checked through the gate then mounted the escalator that carried her to the rooftop. Then it was there before her — the airship.

Her excitement escaped her as she covered her mouth with her trembling hands, staring up at it with elation, and there was a hiccup in the rhythm of her steps. Her eyes darted over every curve and rivet, and her fingers curled into her palms desirously. What she wouldn't give to have a few hours alone to open it up and look through its mechanisms.

Winry boarded and found herself in a lounge. There was a bar with a bartender, and tables with chairs scattered around. People casually began to find a place and make themselves comfortable. She quickened her steps, crossing the lobby to stand beside the window. From here she could see the bay again.

The airship began to rise.


	4. Some Of Him For Me

_Disclaimer: I have zero experience working on dirigibles or other LTA crafts, or most other vehicles, lol._

_I have no idea what I'm doing in that regard._

* * *

_I'm_ _**flying.** _

Winry was trembling like a tuning fork as the ground grew distant. She turned her head to the side, resting it against the window. There was music playing through the deck, but all she could hear was the sound of the airship through the glass. She could sense its vibrations. Her heartbeat matched the movement of its mechanisms and she shut her eyes, just letting herself exist alongside the machine. Winry could feel the thrumming of its engine inside her chest.

From here she could see the propellors outside rotating, turning so as to transition from providing thrust upward off the ground to instead direct the airship forward. She leaned further, trying to see more of the ship, when her foot slipped and she felt herself falling. A hand wrapped around her upper arm, steadying her.

"I close my eyes and I can feel that sensation of floating lightly and gently through the air," a man's voice quoted beside her, the lilt of his words melodic and cajoling.

Winry turned to see who'd caught her, only to hesitate when she saw them. The dark-haired man from the airport lobby stood at her elbow, his hand still on her. Winry shifted away from him and he released her arm.

"Is this your first time on an airship?" he asked. His tone of voice was warm and inviting, though his gaze remained placid. The corner of his lips turned slightly upward in the smallest smile.

"Thank you — and yes," Winry admitted, averting her face.

A voice in the back of her head told her that he wanted her to maintain eye contact, yet he didn't seem put off when she didn't. He leaned against the window beside her as though he'd been invited into her space to do so.

Winry looked past him and saw that the others he'd been with in the airport were nearby. The woman and boy had seated themselves so there was only table between where they sat and where Winry and the man stood. They didn't seem to be paying attention to their conversation, but Winry wouldn't be surprised if they were. The other man, dressed with a heart and spade on his shirt, had positioned himself only a few meters behind her and he wasn't bothering to look bored. His amber eyes watched them with poignant interest.

"Where do you live that you don't have airships?" the man beside her asked, watching her intently. "Are you from one of the smaller islands?"

"No, I came from across the sea," Winry said, then beamed with excitement as she remembered what was ahead of her. "I'm on a business trip here for my job."

"Business?" His head tilted to one side. "What's your line of work?"

"I'm a mechanic."

"A…mechanic." He repeated the word, eyes still focused on her. The smile never left his face, but his expression became more curious. Winry's brow rose at his reaction, waiting for him to continue. "You're just very pretty — I thought you'd say you were a nurse, or a secretary. I didn't expect you to say mechanic," he said at last with a laugh, watching her from beneath dark lashes.

Maybe he expected Winry to blush. Instead she reached in her purse and, as she drew her hand back out, she struck him hard across his face with the head of her wrench.

The man's head snapped to one side, and a trickle of blood flowed from his nose. Winry didn't have the chance to so much as exhale when she felt something sharp at her throat. The slightest turn of her cheek and she saw the red-haired man was standing behind her, that smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. The woman and teenager were standing behind the man she'd struck. They hadn't drawn any weapons, but they were within distance to strike her. The man touched his face and his eyes lowered to look at the blood, rubbing it between his fingers.

"Boss?" the woman asked.

 _Boss._ So they were bodyguards? Winry's heart sunk, realizing she may have struck someone important. She slowly lowered her wrench, becoming more aware of the blade touching her neck.

"What's your name?" he asked, still staring at his blood.

"Winry."

"I offended you, Winry-san. I apologize." He bowed. "My name is Chrollo Lucilfer. Please consider me at your service."

The woman and teenager retreated away, though now they chose to sit at the table closest to them. Winry felt the knife leave, and she glanced behind her again at the red-haired man. Her eyes widened when she saw it wasn't a knife in his hand at all, but a playing card.

"That is Hisoka," Chrollo introduced. "And they are Pakunoda and Shalnark."

"You did offend me," Winry said at last after she'd returned her wrench to her purse, then handed him a clean bandana from it. He dabbed at his nose.

"I will tread more carefully in the future around you." He gave her a reassuring smile, and Winry flushed slightly. "What sort of mechanic are you?"

"I work on automail," she answered proudly, her chin raising.

"What's automail?"

She felt a muscle in her face twitch.

"You—You really don't have automail in Saherta?" She'd hoped Garfiel had been wrong.

Chrollo shook his head back and forth. "I've never heard of it before. What is it?"

Winry heard a _thump_ and glanced down. There was a book at her feet. She instinctively bent to pick it up, brows furrowing as she studied it. There was a handprint on the cover, and she couldn't help but run her palm over it as she stood up. The book was unlike anything she'd ever seen before and she wondered what the cover was made from. Leather? Winry offered it to him.

"Is this yours?" she asked. She hadn't noticed him holding a book before, but she also hadn't looked at him that closely.

"It is — thank you." Chrollo accepted it back, and tucked it under his arm. His smile was disarming. "You were saying?"

"Oh! Automail is mechanical, armored prosthetic limbs."

"Do the limbs lend any powers? Special abilities?"

Winry shrugged. "Everyone's needs are different. I know a woman who has a cannon installed in the kneecap of her automail leg. I make mostly custom automail, but there are also models that are released every year." Her eyes went starry. "I was just reading about the next in the M19 series — the M1910 Mad Bear prosthetics."

"How do they work?"

"The automail is surgically attached to the nerve ends, and then they can be moved at will — the same as with the original limb. Usually they're plated with steel, then underneath the armor are the wires, pneumatic actuators, motors…"

"So what is your role? Do you do maintenance?"

"I can complete the process from start to finish, actually," Winry said, doing her best to sound modest. "Machining, assembly, connecting, and finishing."

"Impressive."

His gray eyes were bright and interested, and Winry realized how refreshing it was to be around someone who didn't know anything about her work. Everyone she associated with knew about automail and the work involved to some degree — it was arguably the center of her world. She loved automail, but she'd never considered how saturated her life was by it.

"I'm going to go get a drink — would you like one, too?" he asked, giving an amicable smile.

The offer caught Winry entirely off-guard. She studied him more carefully — he was close to her age, and he was good looking. _Unearthly beauty,_ she recalled thinking to herself earlier. She briefly wondered what Ed would say about him, and nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Ed would be extremely vocal about his unhappiness.

"No, but thank you," she answered after her pause. "I'm not thirsty."

Chrollo bowed his head, then headed off to the bar. Winry noticed Pakunoda and Shalnark also rose to their feet and followed him away. She glanced over her shoulder; Hisoka had remained. His expression was unchanged, watching her with private amusement.

"Shouldn't you go follow your boss?" she said, turning to face him and crossing her arms.

"He leads, but it is a stretch to say I follow," Hisoka answered, and his voice sent an unsettling chill through her. His tone was a low, gravelly _hiss._ "Though I don't know anyone who has hit him and lived."

"Are you threatening me?"

Hisoka dismissed her comment with a casual wave of his fingers in her direction. His nails were long and claw-like. His mere presence felt sinister and oppressive. "Would you like me to threaten you, _Winry?_ If so, it would be my pleasure."

Every fight-or-flight instinct she possessed sounded the alarm. His invitation was sincere. Winry took a half step back, angling her body so her purse and arm were behind her back, and he clicked his tongue.

"Now, now. I wouldn't bother trying to do that."

Hisoka held up the gun she'd had tucked in the waist of her shorts, hidden by her shirt. Winry's eyes widened and she instinctively touched the small of her back; it _was_ her gun. But she hadn't even noticed him take it—

He must have done it when she hit Chrollo. He'd been close behind her then, and she'd been distracted. She swallowed hard.

"What an archaic little weapon," he said with amusement, pulling out the magazine and surveying the twelve bullets before sliding the magazine back. "It's like something a bandit would use."

Hisoka held the gun back out to her, offering the butt. Winry took it and tucked it back where it belonged. She kept her eyes on him.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "Just don't go hitting him with that little wrench too many times. Leave some of him for me."

The floor beneath their feet trembled, and Winry glanced around nervously. On the far side of the lounge she saw Chrollo, flanked by Pakunoda and Shalnark. All three paused, and Chrollo set down the glass he was holding.

"What was that?" someone asked.

Another rumble rolled through the airship, stronger this time. Winry stumbled, catching herself against the window. A woman at a nearby table grabbed her young child up in her arms. Winry could feel the airship banking starboard, and she had to grab the railing to keep herself from beginning to slide. The lights in the lounge blinked off — the sun was still shining outside, but now the room was filled with long shadows where the natural light didn't reach. Red lights began flashing above two emergency exit doors.

"All passengers, please calmly make your way to the emergency exits," a voice announced through the PA system. "This is not a drill. All passengers, lease calmly make your way to the emergency exits."

The people scattered through the lounge were on their feet, moving with quick, obedient steps in the direction of the exits. Winry pulled herself up with the railing, looking out the window to see the propellor was still circling steadily. The tilt of the airship was prominent now, and Winry took a deep breath before sitting down and letting go of the railing.

She slid across the floor, trying to use her feet to control her speed and direction. Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Shalnark were still at the bar even though the staff had already made their exit. Chrollo saw her careening in his direction and reached out to grab her, stopping her before she slid beyond the bar to crash into the shelves of bottles. His hands were warm. A moment after she steadied herself, Winry saw Hisoka arrive beside her. She didn't have the option to keep her guard up around him now, however.

"What are you doing?" Chrollo asked as she found her footing and scrambled to look out the starboard window.

"I need to get to the engine room," she explained. "Both propellors are still working so it has to be an issue in the engine room."

"There was a doorway in that hall that had a coded lock," Shalnark suggested, pointing to a hallway on the port side, back where she'd come from.

"Hisoka," Chrollo commanded.

The red-haired man sighed. "Very well."

Winry looked back at Hisoka and Chrollo with confusion, then gasped aloud as she was yanked off her feet. She felt herself being dragged up to the hallway, with the others shooting up after her. She was flung into the hall and the wind was knocked out of her as she landed.

"What was that?" she groaned, forcing herself to her hands and knees while she looked for the door to the engine room. The others landed far more gracefully beside her.

"Down there," Shalnark said instead of answering.

Winry's head was turning in that direction, when she felt her feet go out from underneath her again. She managed to grab the handle without flying past it. Panicked dismay filled her as she saw the coded lock Shalnark had mentioned — she had no way to open the door.

There was a _thud_ then a fist punched the panel. Sparks leapt from it, and Winry's weight and grip on the handle swung open the door. She was already scrambling inside when she realized it was Hisoka beside her, forcing her entry.

The engine room was pitch black except for the flashing red emergency lights, but it was enough light for her to see the outline of the engine and the cage surrounding it. She coughed from the fumes that had accumulated inside. The heat was stifling. Winry cursed as she dug through her purse — behind her, Hisoka chuckled at her annoyance — searching for her thick work gloves. She found them and pulled them on, then yanked her shirt up over her nose. She began tucking the other tools she found in her bag around the waist of her shorts, drawing her wrench out last.

"Can you fix it?" Chrollo's voice asked behind her.

"Fix it? I can barely see it," she complained, squinting as she scrambled to the engine.

She could hear the engine struggling, and she could smell smoke. Winry took a moment to focus her eyes on the engine, taking in everything she could during the brief moments that the emergency light cast its red sheen. Winry remembered her conversation with the driver only a couple hours earlier.

_Gas valves designed to release helium._

_Smaller valves to control altitude._

_Lifting engines with forward propulsion engines._

"This one isn't gas," she realized aloud to no one in particular. "This is a diesel engine."

"Does that matter?" asked Chrollo.

"Of course it matters," she murmured before focusing on her work again. "Six sixteen-cylinders…"

Winry climbed inside the cage protecting the engine, and settled herself beside it. She realized the strange angle she was sitting at, and knew the airship was growing close to where its own weight would roll it over. If it did that, would it catch fire? Not that fire mattered. It would crash regardless then. Her fingertips moved over the engine, learning it as intimately as a lover.

"Tell me what's wrong," she coaxed. "Make that sound again."

"You don't have time — we need to head to the life ships," Chrollo interrupted.

 _"Stop talking,"_ Winry snapped, reaching in. She began working, following the noises the engine was making to the source of the problem.

Camshaft wasn't functioning. This poppet valve was jammed — and so was this one, here. There was spalling happening. Damn it, if Ed were here he could just fix it by touch. _But she could too,_ Winry reassured herself.

"I need a lifter!" she shouted, removing the damaged one and holding it over her head for them to spot. "See if there are any parts stored in here! Now!"

She kept going with her repairs, letting her ears and fingers guide her. Something suddenly shot into her hand, and Winry glanced at her palm as the red light flashed. A lifter.

"Got it," she called, and set about installing it.

A heartbeat later Winry jerked, startled by the light turning on overhead. The white light was blinding after sitting in the dark. Only as she glanced around did she become aware that the angle she'd been working at had changed — the airship had almost fully righted itself. The loud, painful noises the engine had been making were quieter now, and the fumes were gone. She let her shirt drop from covering her nose.

Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Shalnark were sitting outside the engine cage. Hisoka had perched himself inside the cage but at the far end. All four of them watched her intensely.

"Is the ship—"

Chrollo inclined his head toward her in affirmation. "Yes, I think so."

"She did it," Pakunoda said in a hushed voice.

"I was watching her with Gyo," Winry heard Shalnark whisper back. "She wasn't using Nen to do it either."

Winry sat back on her heels, wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow with her gloved hand. She could hear footsteps running, growing louder as they drew close until several crew members barged into the engine room.

"Who are you," one of them demanded.

Hisoka giggled.


	5. A Grandiose Gesture

Winry didn't spare a glance at the mirror as she prepared to leave her hotel room. Her reflection had never held her interest anyway except when she happened to catch it reflected in steel — and, even then, it wasn't her face that held her interest. She'd dressed in a drab olive button-up shirt that was soft and well-worn, with tan work overalls. The sleeves were tied around her waist. They were one of her better pairs; the tan hid some of the work stains, and there were only a few scorch marks.

The hotel room was easily the nicest place she'd ever stayed. After what had happened with the airship, the corporation had insisted on repaying her somehow — if she hadn't intervened, the airship would have crashed and cost them millions. She was a much cheaper date. They'd agreed to put her up in a higher rated hotel than Garfiel would be getting a refund for.

The suite in the Hotel Beitacle was bigger than her grandmother's house back in Resembool. There was a sitting room with bar and two bedrooms, each with their own bath. Both freestanding tubs sat before tinted glass windows that looked out across Yorknew City, and the walk-in glass showers were bigger than her room at Garfiel's. The suite also had a private balcony to dine on, with a pool. Hotel Beitacle came with all the requisite perks; turndown service, laundry, even a _pillow menu._

She deliberately chose not to take a purse today, instead opting to put the essentials — I.e. her work gloves, wrench, and gun — into her pockets. She also had a money clip with a generous reward for her services tucked inside her blouse. After all, she'd been raised to drive a hard bargain — and she was still a cheaper date than a crashed airship.

Winry stepped into the elevator, and her eyes began darting around, searching for the mechanisms that she could hear moving. The technology here in Saherta was nothing less than fantastical — airships, elevators, even the escalators from the airport were breathtaking. This place was so whimsical, and she was completely dumbfounded that a place so advanced didn't have automail.

She remembered Garfiel said they didn't use alchemy here — that they had a different kind of science. She remembered all too well what had happened on the airship, how she'd suddenly jettisoned through the air. She wondered if that had something to do with their science, but if that was the case, she wasn't sure she wanted to experience it again.

Winry walked to the Bull Market, her eyes watching everyone she passed by on her way there. People talked into mobile telephones and the cars were so different than in Amestris — they were low and sleek. The buildings here, however, were so tall. When she'd first gone to Central to see Edward, she'd been convinced it was the biggest, most advanced place in the entire world. Yorknew City, however, was forcing her to reevaluate her perspective on so much.

She found the Bull Market easily enough, and a switch inside her flipped into work mode once she arrived. Winry began scouring the vendor stalls, searching for anything she thought she or Garfiel could use — but she quickly realized what the dilemma was:

There was simply too large of a gap between the technology of Amestris and the technology of Saherta.

Winry opted to use some of her personal money to purchase a computer and a cellphone to experiment on. She didn't want to use Garfiel's money on them, just in case she couldn't figure out how they worked and how to incorporate either into an automail design. The biggest issue was the reliance on the screen. While that would be suitable for some automail users, for someone like Ed — who was in combat a little too frequently for her tastes — it wouldn't be functional.

She found herself looking mostly at the older technologies; things that were outdated here in Saherta, but were still ahead-of-the-times for Amestris. She put in a bid on something she found called a transistor, and a hydrogen fuel cell. She'd heard Ed talk about hydrogen more than a few times.

The most promising device she found was something called a drone. She wondered what Ed would think of the ability to maybe have something detach from his automail and go airborne, so that it could attack from above. Or maybe for surveillance.

After she'd gone through all the stalls, she decided it was time to loop back around to see if anyone else had bid on the items she'd found. She'd tracked her bids on a piece of paper and it didn't take her long to return to the first stall. Winry lifted the tag on the camera — it didn't need to be set up on a tripod, and the Polaroid photos printed immediately directly from the device — and she gaped. She'd been outbid. There was still time left before the auction would be over, but the amount that had been bid on it was a far leap away from what she'd offered. It was high enough that she wasn't sure she could even place another bid without jeopardizing her ability to counter offers on other items.

Her lips pursed tightly, but she hesitated. She stood there for a long minute, evaluating how well she thought she'd be able to dissect it and then apply it to automail. She reluctantly set the camera back down and walked away, hands in the pockets of her overalls.

Her day didn't improve. Throughout the afternoon she watched as, one by one, the items she'd found were bought out from under her nose. In the end the only two things she managed to hang on to were the hydrogen fuel cell and something called a solar panel. She'd even been outbid on a terrarium with the cocoon of a hemotropic butterfly — the photo of what the cocoon would reveal was a beautiful insect, and she'd selfishly wanted that for herself.

Garfiel was going to be so disappointed.

Winry returned to her hotel room with three bags. Two containing her items and the third was a bag of food from a restaurant — she'd ordered fish. She didn't think she'd ever gotten to eat fish before in her entire life, since Amestris was completely landlocked. There was a fresh bottle of champagne in a basin filled with ice; she took it and the fragile stemmed glass beside it, and headed for the balcony. She would sit, eat and drink, and have a self-pitying cry of frustration before trying again in the morning.

She bumped the door with her hip to open it, then froze in place with her first step out onto the balcony. The door clicked shut behind her. Each of the items she'd been outbid on were laid out on the outdoor table in front of the pool — even the terrarium with the cocoon. Winry cautiously lowered her bags to the ground, and her hand went to the gun in her pocket — only to curse when she found her pocket empty.

"Something wrong?" a familiar voice asked.

Hisoka emerged from the shadows, his arms folded over his chest. Winry flattened her back against the door, and twisted the knob. It turned, but the door didn't budge. She swore again.

"Such language is very becoming on you," he complimented, his ever-constant smile unfaltering.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Winry said sourly. "Or is that why you're here?"

"Hmh." Hisoka advanced on her, and she realized for the first time he wore shoes with thick, tall heels. Even without them, though, he would've towered over her. "If you're asking if I'm here on business for Chrollo, the answer is no. I'm here on my own accord."

Winry let go of the doorknob and stepped toward him. Her heart was in her throat and she'd never been so afraid — they were on a balcony some sixty stories above the city street. It would take one push and she wouldn't even be identifiable. But she thought of Edward. He wouldn't let himself be cowed, and she wouldn't either.

"What are you doing here?"

"Were these not things you wanted?"

He gave a grandiose gesture in the direction of the items she'd been outbid on, and Winry's eyes lingered on them covetously before nodding.

"They are."

"Well," he said, "then they are yours."

"Did you steal these from the people who outbid me?"

Hisoka didn't rush to answer, taking the liberty of seating himself in one of the chairs beside the table. He made another gesture, beckoning for her to sit across from him. Winry frowned but did as he bid.

"No, I did not steal them from anyone — except maybe you." Her gut said he wanted her to ask him to elaborate, but she'd already sat down as he'd wanted. She wouldn't give him both. After the pause lengthened, he shrugged. "I outbid you."

"Why would you do that?"

"It's a thank you."

He paused again, and she could tell from the glint in his eye that he wouldn't be the one to break the silence this time. She sighed.

"Why are you thanking me?" Winry's eyebrows knit close together and she propped her chin on her knuckles, watching him. She'd realized already that he'd outbid her so that she wouldn't pay for them herself, but she didn't understand the reason. "Is this about the airship? Are you thanking me for saving you when the airship was going down?"

Hisoka's head lolled back against the chair. A musing expression crossed his face, and — for the first time — his smile became genuine, and deeply indulgent. Salicious. Winry felt chilled, wondering what he'd thought of to evoke such a reaction.

"No."

She wouldn't pretend to understand, but she wouldn't push the issue either. Ed had taught her years ago to know when to let things go. Winry retrieved her wrench from her pocket and used it to pull the cork from the bottle of champagne, then filled the fragile little glass.

As she raised the glass to her lips, Hisoka slid her gun across the table so it was in her reach. Winry took it and tucked it away in her clothes again.

"Stop taking it," she said.

"Very well." Something else slid across the table — the bag with her dinner. "I assume you want that, too," he added.

"How did you do that? You didn't move to go get it."

"Bungee gum," Hisoka answered simply.

"Oh."

Winry ignored him then, staring at the city beyond her balcony. A sea of lights and sounds spread out before her, and she folded her legs underneath her as she took another sip from her glass.


	6. Your Patron

Winry awoke with the dawn, alone on the balcony.

She didn't recall having fallen asleep — she'd eaten her meal, then resigned to sitting in the chair in silence when Hisoka had shown no inclination to leave. Every so often a question would come to her, but she quashed each without asking. She must have simply drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

Hisoka hadn't left long ago. The concrete around the pool had a few remaining footprints that had yet to dry. The idea that he'd swum in her pool while she slept was almost as unsettling as how he'd accessed her balcony in the first place. He'd also gone inside her suite, laying out the auction items on her bed.

Everything about his visit had been an unwelcome evasion, but now she was merely glad he was gone. While Pakunoda and Shalnark had seemed odd, they had not struck her as particularly malicious unless prompted — such as when she'd struck Chrollo, and even then they hadn't drawn weapons on her. Chrollo himself was darkly charming. While she admitted to herself she wouldn't mind being in his company again, it was not worth being in proximity to Hisoka.

Winry ordered breakfast to her room, and spent the early morning setting up the new cellphone she'd purchased the day before — barely resisting the urge to take it apart. She reminded herself that once she went back to Amestris it probably wouldn't be worth having anyway, and reassured herself that she could wait a little longer to dismantle its fragile frame.

In the afternoon she returned to the Bull Market, and found a few more items to bid on — and none of the counter bids were as off-putting as they had been the day before. In hindsight, the price jumps should've been suspect but she knew better now at least. She checked regularly to make sure her gun stayed where it was supposed to. By the end of the day she'd won the majority of her auctions — Garfiel would be pleased.

At her hotel she ordered dinner, and deliberately avoided the balcony. Instead she drew the blinds and made herself comfortable on the floor in the center of the sitting room to work — until a knock on the door of her hotel suite drew her attention.

Winry glimpsed out the peephole and saw one of the hotel staff outside her door, so she opened it cautiously.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Winry Rockbell?"

"Yes, that's me," she said with a nod. The young man offered her a sealed envelope that he'd carried up on a sterling tray. "What's this?"

"It came from the Bull Market, miss."

She accepted the envelope and he gave a slight bow, only to gape when he saw past her into the room. Winry's eyes followed his gaze to the thing called a television, which laid dismantled in pieces across the carpet.

"I plan to put it back together," she promised, blushing hotly. He began to stammer something, but Winry quickly gave a wave and shut the door before he could say anything else.

Winry turned the envelope over, then stared at it for a long minute before realizing what was wrong. There was no wax seal — instead, there was a thin film she had to rip open. Inside she found a letter.

* * *

_Ms. Winry Rockbell,_

_Thank you for your attendance at the Bull Market. Per the waivers and disclaimers forms signed prior to entering the auction, there are tiered rewards available based on the level of financial participation. Our vendors appreciate the participation of your patron, Hisoka Morow, who has deferred to you the corresponding gift for your financial investment in excess of 30,000,000 Jenī._

_We are pleased to sponsor your inclusive trip to the Republic of Tentai. Accommodations will be awaiting you at the Hotel Dosei, with access to Heavens Arena and tickets to the scheduled event on 26 June._ _Please contact—_

* * *

Winry read the letter several times over before it sank in what exactly had happened. When Hisoka had outbid her on all her items, he'd spent a threshold amount to receive a prize — a trip, to be specific — and he had the prize sent to her instead of accepting it himself.

She hesitated, uncertain of what to do. Finally she picked up the receiver of the phone in the hotel room, and it connected to an operator.

"I need to make a long distance call," she said hesitantly.

"Of course, ma'am. To whom and where are they located?"

"I'd like to contact Edward Elric. He's in Dublith, Amestris, at the home of Izumi Curtis."

"Please hold, ma'am, while I attempt to connect your call. It may take a few minutes to go through."

Winry returned to the place she'd been sitting and half-heartedly sifted through the pieces of the television strewn across the ground. She began to put it back together while she waited.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"I have Edward Elric on the line. I am connecting you now."

"Thank you." There was a pause then a click, and she could hear talking in the background of the call. "Hello? Ed?"

"Hey Winry!" Hearing his voice made her smile, and Winry absentmindedly wrapped the cord of the phone around her arm. "Did you get there okay?"

"I'm here."

"But did you get there okay?"

"What's with the interrogation?" she avoided. If she told him about the airship, he would lose his mind.

"It's just not like you to call me, normally it's me calling you—"

"—To fix your automail," Winry finished for him, laughing. "I promise I'm fine, Ed. It's so different here! I found so many things at the auction, I can't wait to get them back to Garfiel."

"That's great, Winry."

"I also won a prize because of how much I spent at the auction."

The slightest manipulation of the truth, but doing it made her feel guilty. If he would have become upset about the airship, it was nothing compared to what his reaction would be if she told him about what had transpired with Hisoka.

"What did you win?" Already he sounded skeptical.

"It's actually another trip, to a northern province called the Republic of Tentai. They've provided a hotel and everything."

"I don't know about that, Winry. It sounds fishy. I think you should just come home, I need you back here."

"You don't need me," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You and Al have been doing fine for yourselves."

"No, it's not that. I may need some maintenance."

"What. Did you. Do."

It was Ed's turn to sound nervous, his chuckle just a little too high-pitched and anxious. "I mean, I'm a State Alchemist, it's kind of a given that I'm going to need maintenance."

"You tell me what happened right now, Ed!" she warned.

"Al and I may have gotten into a fight."

"I thought you were just going to visit Izumi. Why are you fighting?"

"It's going to happen, Winry! That's a risk that I have to take if I'm going to be serious about restoring Al and I."

"How bad is the damage?" He didn't answer, and she groaned. "It would take me three weeks to travel back, Ed, I'm sorry. You should talk to Garfiel and see if they can make the repairs you need in the meantime."

"You shouldn't have left in the first place," Ed countered, and Winry could hear his annoyance. "You have no business going so far away all on your own, and I really don't think you should be going to the Republic of Tenten."

She was too infuriated to bother correcting him. Winry flung her screwdriver across the room and rose to her feet.

"Well, luckily it's not up to you, Ed. Go call Garfiel and see when you can get squeezed in. Bye."

She hung up the phone, fuming. She hadn't been certain about what she wanted to do with the trip when she first called Ed, but his attitude had made up her mind.

She would go.


	7. Foolish

She almost _didn't_ go.

Winry packaged and mailed all of the items she'd collected over the past several days to Garfiel. She called and let them know what was en route. Garfiel's enthusiasm would've been enough to knock her over if she'd been there in person. Garfiel had said resolutely that she'd had greater success in her few short days in Saherta than anyone else who'd gone on behalf of Atelier Garfiel in the past.

There had been less enthusiasm when she'd told Garfiel about her intentions to travel north to the Republic of Tentai. They'd echoed Ed's reservations, but Garfiel didn't know her well enough yet to challenge her about it.

That wasn't what almost stopped her though. She'd been packing her belongings when it suddenly occurred to her that she might cross paths with Hisoka again in Tentai.

The stone in her gut sat heavily until she decided the idea was absurdity at best. She would be traveling to an entirely different country. Hisoka worked for Chrollo and, unless Chrollo was going there, it would probably be unlikely for Hisoka to stray far from his boss. But, most reaffirming of all, was that Hisoka had declined the trip and not said anything about it when he'd been on her balcony. Albeit she'd only encountered him twice, but her gut told her he would've said something about it if he'd had any intention of being there. His silence on the matter was the most reassuring of all.

The trip to the Republic of Tentai would be made by taking two more airships. The first would land in Zaban City, and from there she would board another to take her to Tentai. The hotel she'd been booked into — Hotel Dosei — was not as high brow as Hotel Beitacle, but it would be more than sufficient judging by the brochure that had arrived to her suite the morning after she accepted the trip. Perhaps she would find even more technology there to send back to Garfiel.

Winry arrived after the sun had already set on 25 June. Yorknew City had been tall and stunning. As the airship into Tentai had approached its final destination, however, she'd lost her breath as she looked out across this new skyline. A single building dwarfed the rest, a brilliant silver-gray that reflected the lights of the city surrounding it.

"What is that?" she'd asked one of the airship attendants.

The woman had given her an enthusiastic-customer-service smile before declaring, "That's Heavens Arena!"

Winry turned her eyes back to the skyscraper, her heart aflutter. So that was where the event on the 26th was to be held. She had expected to receive another brochure for the event as she had for Hotel Dosei, but one had not been forthcoming. Now, however, she wondered what kind of event it would be. A music concert? A grand theatre production? The possibilities were endless.

Her plans for the evening were to go check in at her hotel, then find somewhere to eat. She'd had a small meal on the airship, but she was hungry again and it would be foolish to pass up the opportunity for food on an inclusive trip.

As at the port in Maycape, after Winry had collected her checked bags from the airship, she headed outside to where a line of taxis waited at the curb. She'd expected it to be quiet traveling, but the airport was thrumming with people. Perhaps this place was even bigger than Yorknew City? Winry let out a heavy sigh as she wondered what Ed and Al were doing right now, and wished she had a way to share the immensity of here with them. Someone climbed out of a taxi as it arrived to the airport, and Winry swiftly ducked in through the open door. The door on the other side opened at the same time though, and a man ducked in. They each looked at each other with startled surprise, then Winry's eyes grew wide.

"Chrollo!"

"Winry-san?"

Her stomach dropped as she looked past Chrollo to the people standing behind him. Pakunoda was there, but instead of Shalnark there was a different man. His hair was black and hung down his chest in stringy lengths, and he had a thin mustache over his mouth and a sparse patch of hair on his chin. There was a woman whose hair was an electric shade of lilac. Hisoka, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Chrollo gave a quiet laugh, then waved away Pakunoda and his other companion.

"Follow us in the next taxi," he instructed, then shut the door.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.

Winry was still staring at Chrollo in shock as she answered him numbly, "Hotel Dosei, please." Then, to Chrollo, "How—What are you doing here?"

"I would ask the same," Chrollo said in return as the car pulled away from the curb. He gave her a smile. Tonight he wore a black shirt with a tall, stiff neck, with black slacks.

"I've asked first."

Chrollo nodded. "So you did. I'm here for a fight. And you?"

"I was in Yorknew City for the Bull Market, but apparently after you spend so much money they compensate you for some of your investment," she said, carefully tiptoeing her way around the truth.

 _"If you're asking if I'm here on business for Chrollo, the answer is no. I'm here on my own accord,"_ Hisoka had said. So it was unlikely that Chrollo even knew what Hisoka had been up to in his spare time.

"The compensation I was gifted was an inclusive trip here. I don't know when I'll come back across the sea after I go home, so I didn't see any reason not to come."

That was a lie. She'd thought of a list of reasons not to come, but the most prominent among them had been Hisoka. The logic she'd used to override those concerns was that it was unlikely Chrollo would happen to be on different continent at the same time as her, so it was equally unlikely to encounter Hisoka since Chrollo was Hisoka's boss. Yet here Chrollo was, and Hisoka was not. It was the best result she could have hoped for.

"Is that so? I seldom have my interests met at the Bull Market," he said.

"What do you collect?" Winry asked, and the question seemed to catch him off-guard. She read what she thought was surprise on his face when she asked, although it may have been an illusion of the shadows that crawled over his handsome countenance as car drove.

"Antique texts, among other things."

"There was an enormous library in Central, but you have to work for the State to be granted access to it," Winry said. "I have a friend who works for the State — he told me it was burned in a fire. Everything was lost."

"A shame," Chrollo said.

"What happened to your bodyguards?" she questioned. "I only saw Pakunoda."

"They aren't my bodyguards. They are my…friends. Hisoka and Shalnark have their own business to attend to. That was Nobunaga and Machi with me. They are some of my oldest acquaintances, as is Pakunoda."

Winry found the information to be exactly the reassurance she'd been hoping for. She remembered the expression on Hisoka's face on the balcony. His eyes had narrowed into slits and his smile had been a frightening thing to behold — as though he'd stared into a vast abyss, and found the terrible thing staring back at him to be worth seducing and killing. Maybe not in that order either. He unnerved her.

"I don't believe I thanked you for what you did on the airship."

She focused her attention on Chrollo again, blushing slightly in the shadows of the car. "It was nothing, really."

"I disagree. You were able to repair something you'd never encountered before in only a matter of minutes under extremely stressful conditions. If I didn't know better," he said, watching her intently, "I'd have thought you had some special power when it comes to machines."


	8. The Sun and the Moon (Part I)

When the car stopped at her hotel, Chrollo had helped her shoulder her bags as she climbed out of the taxi. She saw that Pakunoda and Nobunaga's taxi was idling nearby.

"If we had intended to go to dinner, I would invite you," he said.

"I wouldn't want to impose on you and your friends anyway," Winry answered, giving him a smile. "It was nice to see you again."

"And you."

They parted ways then, and Winry went to the hotel to check into her room. She stopped in the hotel's souvenir shop before she went up, and quietly chose some items to take back to Amestris with her. She chose an set of elaborate _koma_ for Alphonse, some _koinobori_ and a set of traditional hand towels for the Hughes' family, sake for Garfiel, and a purse for her grandmother. Ed felt much harder to decide for, but after a prolonged hunt she found a steel medal coin with the skyline printed on it. Gray letters on a red band that circled the outside of the medal coin said _HEAVENS ARENA — REPUBLIC OF TENTAI_. On the reverse side there was a small depiction of what looked like two combatants facing off. It seemed like something Ed would like.

She returned to her room with overflowing arms, and settled herself in front of the television. She'd successfully put the one at Hotel Beitacle back together when she was finished with it, so the urge to dismantle and explore this one was mostly sated. Winry changed into her night clothes then burrowed herself under the blankets to watch the images on the screen until her eyes could stay open no longer.

Then she dreamt.

Her sleep was restless. Her nightmares were filled with the sun and the moon, the shadows and light reaching for each other. Winry's legs tangled in the sheets as she moved frantically, sweat beading on her forehead, and her breath quickening in the wake of the approaching eclipse. Then the night and light met in an eruption of flames, and Winry bolted upright in bed with a scream.

Her entire body felt like it was on fire as she tried to free herself from the throes of the nightmare. She bit down on the back of her hand, quaking violently.

_Wake up — Wake up — Wake up!_

Winry collapsed forward on the bed, gasping for air. It was so cold in her room now. She weakly drew the covers up over her as she sank into the mattress. She felt so tired. As her eyes fluttered closed again, she saw a shadow lurking, crouched in the darkness.

Watching.

* * *

Winry awoke to the sound of the hotel room's phone ringing. Her hand snaked out from underneath the blankets and drew the receiver into the dark shelter of the bedding.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Winry-san?"

Her eyes flew open. "Chrollo?"

"Have I woke you?" His voice was instantly apologetic.

She sat up slightly and she covered the receiver with the palm of her other hand, inhaled a deep breath, and forced herself to clear her head.

"I'm awake," she said after she dropped her hand from the phone.

"I was calling to see if you would like to join me later."

"I would like that." Winry swung her legs around to the edge of the bed, though her feet trembled beneath her when she stood up. "I have that event tonight, but as long as we meet before then it should be fine."

She saw an envelope had been slid beneath her door at some point in the morning, and Winry picked it up. She used her finger to break the seal.

"I have something as well this evening," Chrollo agreed.

"What time?" Winry asked.

"My event is at eight o'clock," he said. "Perhaps we could meet at five?"

She slid the papers out from inside the envelope. It contained the itinerary for the evening at Heavens Arena, and Winry scanned it to ensure she would have enough time.

"Five," she agreed. "I don't have to be anywhere before eight either."

She returned the itinerary back into its envelope and glanced at the tickets enclosed with it.

"Are you by chance also attending the fight at Heavens Arena tonight?" Chrollo asked, his tone brimming with curiosity.

Winry wet her lips with her tongue, inhaling a shallow breath before answering in a whisper, "You…You mean Hisoka versus Kastro?"


	9. Taken One Off

Even though it was summer, the Republic of Tentai was much further north than Yorknew City. The night was cooler. She wouldn't have been able to sleep outside on a balcony here — though she had somehow spent most of the day asleep in bed. She felt so tired today after traveling for so long the day before. She rubbed her eyes to clear the fogginess of exhaustion from them.

Tonight she'd dressed in gray pants and a plain white shirt, then paired brown boots with her matching leather jacket. Her hair was down, and she hadn't bothered checking her reflection before she left.

Winry had been worried she would be underdressed for the fight — she didn't know how big of an event she could expect it to be — but seeing Pakunoda and Machi in casual clothes when she arrived in the lobby reassured her. Machi's outfit had changed only in that she was wearing a long-sleeved _uwagi_ with black pants. Pakunoda was wearing the same as she had been earlier.

"Chrollo is in the car," Machi told her curtly.

Winry followed them out, and her footsteps hiccuped when she saw a limousine idling at the curb. The door opened as the women approached, and Nobunaga stepped out. While they three had done little in the way of dressing up, Nobunaga had dressed in a navy blue suit. He looked surprisingly debonaire, but Winry did not miss the sword sheathed at his hip. He tilted his head and gestured for her to climb into the car.

Winry ducked in, then backed away in surprise.

Familiar gray eyes rose to meet hers, but for a moment that was all she recognized. The man before her had dark, slicked back hair and there was a cross tattoo on his forehead. He was shirtless beneath a dark purple trench coat that was lined with a high collar of white fur, and a pair of jade pendant earrings hung from his ears. Unearthly beauty.

"Winry-san," he acknowledged with a bow of his head.

"Chrollo," she whispered, inching further in the vehicle. She approached him cautiously, her eyes surveying him. "What—What is this about?"

She gestured at his clothing. He was almost beyond recognition. Chrollo dropped his head and gave a quiet, amused chuckle.

"You were so good as to tell me so much about yourself," he said, "and I am ashamed I did not return the favor."

Winry felt a nudge at her side, and saw Machi was beside her, waiting for her to move over. The only direction she could go was closer to Chrollo. She shifted herself to sit by his side reluctantly, and Machi, Pakunoda, and Nobunaga climbed in. Something about Chrollo had changed. His…aura, for lack of a better word, felt different. Colder. It was as though he had put a mask on — or, perhaps, he had taken one off.

Chrollo, in this moment, reminded her of Hisoka.

 _"I don't know anyone who has hit him and lived,"_ Hisoka had said of Chrollo.

Her concerns about Hisoka had returned in spades when she'd seen the tickets were to his match. She didn't believe in coincidence, and the odds were low that he simply _just happened_ to spend enough money for her to receive a trip to the Republic of Tentai, which _just happened_ to include tickets to his fight. No. He had plans of some sort for her, and she was completely in the dark as to what they were. Hisoka would be putting himself in her path again, she knew it.

Perhaps Ed was right, she worried.

Maybe she should have just gone home.

"Heavens Arena is my…home," Chrollo told her. "The closest place I have to a home now — meaning I have a room there that is always mine to return back to when I wish." He seemed to read her expression easily, because he continued, "Heavens Arena is a battle site where combatants come to compete; there are 251 floors. After the 100th floor you are given your own room. After the 200th floor, you fight for honor instead of money. The highest ranked competitors are given their own floor, and are known as Floor Masters."

He paused, and Winry was quick to connect the dots.

"You are a Floor Master at Heavens Arena," she said. Chrollo nodded. "Hisoka also fights there — and he is fighting tonight." He nodded again.

"Tonight is Hisoka's fight to advance to the 200th floor. He is facing a fighter named Kastro, it's their first time facing each other. Kastro is also fighting for a position on the 200th floor."

Winry found herself asking, against her better judgment, "Is it safe to fight against Hisoka?"

Chrollo gave a smile that made him more familiar to her.

"Kastro has shown himself to be very capable, but Hisoka is formidable. Whether Kastro dies is at Hisoka's discretion."

"They would allow someone to be killed?"

"After reaching the 200th floor it is, and in agreed upon death matches. This is not one, but I would not put it past Hisoka to kill if it pleased him to do so, no matter what the rules say."

"How strong is Hisoka?" Winry asked.

Machi, Pakunoda, and Nobunaga all averted their eyes. Chrollo did not answer for a long moment.

"I am stronger, but I would prefer not to fight Hisoka without preparation," Chrollo admitted. "I still have not learned everything I would like to know about his techniques, and Hisoka the Magician is crafty and shrewd. I will be watching him closely tonight."

Winry lowered her eyes. He'd confirmed her gut instincts with regard to Hisoka — he was dangerous. But now she had learned that Chrollo was dangerous, too. He, however, had slipped past all her guards. He had been beguiling. Disarming. She never would have suspected it.

She didn't know why she should be surprised, though. Edward was the most powerful person she knew, and everyone who looked in his direction saw only a pint-size kid — not a skilled State Alchemist. Appearances could be deceiving. It would serve her well to remember that in the future.

She looked at Chrollo's companions with new eyes — studying Pakunoda, Machi, and Nobunaga more carefully now. Perhaps she had not considered them closely enough either.

"I've arranged for your seat to be moved so that you are sitting with us, instead of sitting alone," Chrollo said.

"Thank you."

She had been prepared to be on her own and, even though she suddenly had newfound doubts about Chrollo, he was a wolf she would rather have by her side if she had the choice.

The limousine arrived at the restaurant, and they emerged one-by-one. Winry stumbled slightly as she climbed out — someone caught her, and she put her hands on them to steady herself. Her eyes dilated when she saw it was Chrollo standing with his arm around her, even though he had still been in the limousine while she'd been getting out. How had he moved so quickly?

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Winry nodded, drawing her hands away. The warmth he radiated had not escaped her notice. Her cheeks pinkened with embarrassment.

"I haven't eaten yet today, so I'm feeling a little weak," she admitted.

"Let's go inside," he said. "We all need to be in top form around Hisoka."


	10. Hisoka the Magician

Their entourage entered the Arena through a back door, away from the crowds that had gathered for admission. Chrollo directed the way to a private elevator which he explained was for the fighters to access their quarters undisturbed by the public. Nobunaga led the way, with she and Chrollo in the center. Machi and Pakunoda brought up the tail.

When they reached the floor the fight was to be held on, they were kept separated from the milling public by both velvet ropes and guards. Winry didn't miss the eyes that looked in their direction, or how whoever saw them would grab onto whoever was close and whisper, _"It's Chrollo Lucilfer!"_

Their seats were in the lowest level, closest to the cement square where she assumed the fighting itself would take place. There was a considerable space between the cement and the nearest seats, however Winry didn't fail to notice that areas of the concrete barrier that separated the ring from the fighting space had been more recently repaired than others.

They sat in the same order as they had entered the Arena, and she chewed on her lip while watching the other spectators enter. While many of them carried signs with Kastro's name, she saw plenty — especially women — holding signs for Hisoka, most with racy phrases designed to catch attention. Her stomach turned. She'd _seen_ Hisoka's expression in private. He was not romantic — he was ghastly.

Eyes continued to stray toward where she sat with Chrollo. Winry had never been the subject of so much attention, even indirectly, and she felt increasingly ill at ease. It took too long for the lights to lower and the music to begin so people would look away from their group. Spotlights flashed on to focus on the ring. There was a large screen mounted on the wall, projecting photos of both Hisoka and his opponent, Kastro, side by side.

While Hisoka's photo looked intimidating, she still wouldn't have guessed the amount of sheer malice that radiated from him in person based on his picture. That certain something that was deranged about him didn't convey on the screen. He looked, and she flashed back to the balcony. That heady, indecent expression she'd seen still gave her chills.

If Hisoka was to be the villain, a mere glance at Kastro told her that he was meant to be the hero. He had green eyes, long white-silver hair, and his robes and pants were also white with only touches of black trim. He'd tucked his pants into gray boots. His face was serious, but he looked kind. If she'd been in danger, he seemed like someone she could have run to for safety.

The music lowered a notch, and Winry heard a commentator speak over an address system. The woman's voice was high pitched and brimming over with excitement.

_"Tonight it finally happens! The much anticipated fight between Hisoka Morow and Kastro Kagami! Hisoka the Magician has had a flawless 4-0 record, winning each of his fights on his way up. Kastro Kagami's record is 6-0! Whoever wins here tonight advances to the 200th floor!"_

Smoke plumed forth along the walls, drawing Winry's eyes as Hisoka emerged from the smog. His expression was stoic and unreadable as he strode to stand on the cement slab closest to where Winry sat with Chrollo. Hisoka glanced over the crowd with only the faintest interest. If he saw where she sat with Chrollo and the others, he didn't acknowledge them. With the distance closed between them, however, she could see the faintest gleam in his amber eyes. Winry swallowed hard.

_"Is this about the airship? Are you thanking me for saving you when the airship was going down?"_

_"No."_

More smoke erupted and the audience's cheers grew louder. Despite Hisoka's eager devotees, she could see that Kastro was favored for the fight. Kastro stepped forward and the smoke wrapped itself around him, following him into the light. She had expected him to raise a hand to the crowd, but he did not. He had eyes for only Hisoka.

Hisoka advanced to meet Kastro in the center, his muscled arms folded over his chest. A referee raised his hand. The smile that crossed Hisoka's face then...Winry covered her mouth with her hand, suddenly struggling to breathe. It wasn't the same smile he'd borne on the balcony, but it was close. So close. He was _excited_ to fight.

She couldn't see the microphones Hisoka and Kastro wore, but there was a subtle _click_ over the address system as they turned on, just in time to pick up the sound of Kastro's scoff.

 _"Hisoka and Kastro are both at the ready—"_ the commentator announced, and the screen transitioned from displaying their pictures to instead focus on the combatants.

The referee's hand dropped. "Begin!"

Kastro launched himself forward without any preface, going in for the attack with a high kick that Hisoka simply blocked with his forearm without so much as flinching. Kastro was not dissuaded though, following through with his right arm, as though he'd expected Hisoka to stop his first assault. The crowd was screaming, thrilled with Kastro's aggression and forwardness.

Hisoka raised his left arm in an inside block, and sent back a punch of his own with his other hand. Their hand-to-hand continued, each dealing blows that were deflected or avoided. Winry watched closely, but their moves were too fast for her eyes to track. She stole a glance at Chrollo, and saw his pupils flickering. Was he actually able to follow them? If he was a Floor Master and stronger than Hisoka, it only made sense that he should be able to.

Screams surged around her and people rose up on their feet like a tidal wave, crashing around her in thunderous elation. Winry looked back to the men — Hisoka was _on the ground._ Then she saw the scoreboard—

Hisoka 0. Kastro 2.

_"Unbelievable! Kastro has landed a knockdown against Hisoka! No one has ever gotten a knockdown or scored this many points before against Hisoka the Magician!"_

"Get serious," Kastro growled through gritted teeth. His brows knitted together in rage. "Fight me!" Kastro threw another punch directly at Hisoka's face.

Did he mean that Hisoka wasn't even trying yet? Winry pondered in surprise. But he wasn't necessarily wrong — Hisoka's expression hadn't changed at all during the match, no matter the hits Kastro threw. Even now, after being knocked down, Hisoka remained detached and aloof as he—

Winry sat upright in her seat, her spine straightening. How had he done that? She hadn't taken her eyes off Hisoka, but one moment he simply leaned away to dodge Kastro's fist, and the next Hisoka was in a crouch on the ground behind him.

Hisoka's lips curved.

His body moved effortlessly and precisely into a spinning heel kick, his leg sweep Kastro off his feet. The other man landed hard on his back with a cry.

_"Hisoka has made his move! That's a knockdown — two points for Hisoka! The score is tied!"_

Kastro didn't waste a moment. Almost as soon as he was downed, he somersaulted backward to put distance between them. He knelt low, baring his teeth, green eyes watching as Hisoka gracefully rose back to his feet. Winry found herself in awe of the willowy way he moved, more like a dancer than a fighter. His expression, however, had darkened into something sinister. She inhaled a breath, and Kastro let out a scream.

Blood spurted from his mouth as he collapsed down onto his hands and knees. Another agonized cry left him, and he grabbed at his head.

"What—What is this!"

Winry squinted, staring hard, her eyes moving between the two men. At first she couldn't see what had happened, but then she saw a mist rising off Kastro's body.

"What have you done!" Kastro demanded, struggling to get to his feet. Winry didn't mistake the glint in Hisoka's eyes.

"I've opened your nodes," Hisoka said, his teeth showing when he spoke. "Normally that sort of initiation would only happen once you've reached the 200th floor, but since you will not be advancing there today, I wanted to ensure I had the pleasure of doing it."

Kastro charged forward with a resounding battle cry, and the audience around Winry took it up as their own. The noise was deafening and she felt herself drawing away from it all, then Chrollo put his hand on her wrist. She met his reassuring gaze, then looked back to the fight.

Kastro was in striking range of Hisoka now, and he released a flurry of hits against him. Hisoka's features, however, had relaxed back into something serene as he nimbly evaded every blow. He shifted lithely around Kastro's attacks. It was like magic how not a single one landed on him.

_Hisoka the Magician._

The crowd bellowed their rage when Hisoka finally gave his response to Kastro's onslaught, throwing a fist directly at his chest. Kastro deflected it with his open palm, but as Kastro's body turned to block, Hisoka glided behind him once more and struck him across the back of the head. The referee made a gesture.

_"That's another clean hit for Hisoka!"_

Hisoka 3. Kastro 2.

The people surrounding them called out their reassurances to Kastro. He got to his feet, stumbling for a moment before recovering his balance. The steam rising from his body was growing denser. Winry saw the slightest slump to his shoulders. Kastro didn't rush in now as he had before. Hisoka raised a hand and gave an unmistakeable gesture, beckoning Kastro to come.

Winry was struck by a poignant moment of bizarre realization: she wanted Hisoka to win.

Kastro's leg swung out in a roundhouse kick that Hisoka nimbly sidestepped, but then Kastro's leg rose in a high front kick, meaning to force Hisoka back and put distance between them. Winry gasped and covered her mouth with her hands when, instead, Hisoka charged into his guard, leveraging his shoulder beneath Kastro's raised leg, and slamming him down hard on his back. Blood and spittle flew from Kastro's mouth, splattering on Hisoka's clothes.

_"The referee has called that a knockdown! Two points! Hisoka 5, Kastro 2!"_

The crowd booed their displeasure as Hisoka stood up again, leaving Kastro laying there, but if it bothered Hisoka it was impossible to tell. Kastro got to his feet, only for Hisoka to drive his palm into his gut. More blood on Hisoka.

_"That's a clean hit!"_

The scoreboard changed, listing six points for Hisoka. Winry looked back up at Chrollo.

"When is the fight over?" she asked.

"The fight ends when one of them has reached ten points, a technical knockout, or a knockout," Chrollo answered.

How much more could Kastro take?

Winry watched as Kastro stood up again, then threw himself at Hisoka once more. Kastro struck with his right, then followed through with his left a millisecond after. Hisoka barely managed to dodge the fake out, ducking low, then returned an uppercut that sent Kastro stumbling back.

_"Another clean hit! This is turning into another sweep for Hisoka!"_

Kastro rebounded quickly, using another feint to land a kick of his own against Hisoka. Winry gasped aloud as Hisoka was sent skidding off the cement, toward the concrete barrier that protected the spectators in the stands. She saw something around Hisoka's feet though, a flash of a pink hue around the soles of his heeled shoes, keeping him standing despite the immense force he'd been driven back by. He stopped mere feet away, directly in front of where Winry was in the stands with Chrollo.

_"That's a clean hit by Kastro! Can Kastro make a comeback?!"_

Hisoka 7. Kastro 3.

She heard the sound Hisoka made through the address system.

"Hmh."

For the first time, Hisoka charged forward. He moved so quickly that Winry lost track of him with her eyes again and she tried to focus in more closely, but then Kastro was on his back again. The steam around his body looked dense enough to touch.

_"Another knockdown! The score is 9-3 Hisoka! Kastro's time is running out!"_

Hisoka did a series of sprightly handsprings, putting distance between them. The spectators rallied behind Kastro, the very walls trembling while they cheered their support, as he got to his feet then lunged forward — only to fall forward onto his stomach. Winry hadn't realized she'd even taken her eyes off Hisoka while focusing on Kastro until she saw Hisoka was behind him once more, head and shoulders down. Hisoka crooked his finger gently, and Kastro was dragged a few feet backward across the floor toward him.

But how?

Winry squinted hard, struggling to see what trap Hisoka had laid for Kastro, and finally it came to her. There was something pink and thick on the bottom of Kastro's feet, and it stretched all the way back to Hisoka's hand. A chill passed over her, and Winry's gaze sought out his face, but his eyes were focused downward. The harsh shadows cast by the spotlights seemed to thicken around him, and the air positively _hummed,_ as though charged with electricity. Her fingers curled. She could hear his ragged, labored breathing through the address system — it was a deeply intimate noise.

Hisoka's head rose, and his eyes — wide and crazed — locked upon Kastro. His tongue slipped out the corner of his mouth, and lapped up a fleck of Kastro's blood that had been on his face. It was the look from the balcony. Malice roiled off him, and Winry flinched away. She didn't realize she was shaking until Chrollo put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. The crowd had gone silent.

Kastro struggled to get back up but collapsed, then looked back over his shoulder at Hisoka. The fear in his eyes was easy to read.

"You are too weak to continue on," Hisoka whispered headily, his voice echoing through the arena. "I want to kill you so _much,_ but if I kill you now…I can't kill you later. When you're worth killing. And if I kill you now, I won't move to the next floor…"

Kastro struggled to get back to his feet, but Hisoka simply beckoned with his finger and Kastro was dragged across the floor to lie at Hisoka's feet. Hisoka grabbed Kastro up by the front of his robe, his own amber eyes narrowed into hungry slits, and put him on his feet. The haze around Kastro had begun to fade, dissipating quickly. Hisoka didn't look away as he struck a final blow to Castro's chest, and a mist of blood sprayed through the air with finality.

_"That's a clean hit! 10-3, Hisoka wins! Hisoka will be moving on to the 200th floor!"_

The audience screamed as their violent delights found their violent ends, even though it wasn't their champion who had won. Winry looked to Chrollo, and found her dark-haired companion was still watching Hisoka closely, even as Hisoka exited the arena in a flurry of smoke and flashing lights. Kastro followed close behind, with several of the Arena's staff helping him to walk.

"What did I just witness?" Winry asked in awe as the spectators quickly dispersed. "And what happened at the end? What was that awfulness I felt?"

"That was Hisoka's bloodlust," Chrollo answered. "It is how his need to kill manifests itself."

A member of the Arena's staff approached them, and gave a bow before Chrollo.

"Which one of you is the mechanic?" the man asked.

Winry blinked in surprise, and Chrollo's head turned fully in her direction. "I am," she said.

"I need you to come with me, miss."

"What is the meaning of this?" Chrollo demanded.

"Chrollo Lucilfer-san, her presence has been requested by Hisoka Morow. He would like to see her at once."

"You don't need to go," Chrollo told her, "though if you choose to I will not stop you. But if you do go, you should be armed."

Winry inhaled deeply, and gave a curt nod. If she didn't go, he would only find her later when she didn't expect it and wasn't prepared.

"I have a cellphone now," she said, and recited the number to him. Chrollo gave her a number in return and she saved it in her phone. It was the only number she had saved.

"I will remain here tonight, in my Floor Master suite. I will be close should I be needed, and I will wait for you to tell me that you are safe."

Winry met his eyes and gave him a smile that she hoped was more reassuring than how she felt inside. Then she turned to the staffer and he began to lead the way. Winry inhaled deeply, trying to relax the tightness and fear that had nested itself in her chest.

They entered an elevator and it began to ascend. Her eyes watched as the number ticked up to 200. In a last gesture of reassurance, she touched her pocket where her gun was — then swore.

It was _fucking empty._


	11. An Invitation

The staffer brought her from the elevator to the door of a room, and she noticed how timidly he rapped his knuckles when he knocked. Hisoka's voice called from inside, _"Come in."_

Winry dismissed the staffer with a nod and the man eagerly retreated back to the elevator. She breathed in, filling her chest with air then her nerves with steel, and barged through the door.

"Give me my gun!" Winry demanded, storming across the room to where he lazed in an armchair, and struck him hard across the face with the back of her hand.

Hisoka's head snapped to the side. His eyes shut and his nostrils flared, and Winry trembled as his expression metamorphosized into _that_ smile. She realized her hand was damp — there was water still beaded on his skin, and his hair was wet. It fell around his face instead of flaring upward now, and his yellow star and blue tear had been washed away, too. He'd changed into clean clothes, but he didn't wear his torques or shoes.

For a moment Winry was struck by how he almost looked normal. It was almost as startling as it had been to see Chrollo when she'd gotten into the limousine.

"The rush of fighting has left me… _sensitized,"_ he warned in a whisper, not looking at her face. "If you strike me again, I may not be able to stop myself."

Her stomach dropped. "Give me my gun, Hisoka. Now."

Instead he closed his hand around her wrist, and turned her arm to take a better look. His amber eyes finally rose to find hers.

"What happened here?" She saw the bite mark she'd given herself while in the throes of her nightmare. Winry began to pull her arm back, but he didn't release his grip on her. He tsked at her before she had the opportunity to panic. "Don't run away or struggle, and don't lie. I am restraining myself as best I can already."

"I did it to myself," she admitted, "to wake myself up from a nightmare last night."

"And your nightmare was…painful?" Hisoka asked, closing his eyes again, his tongue protruding from the corner of his lips before vanishing.

"I—I think so."

"And you've been tired since you woke."

"What are you saying?" Winry went to pull her arm away again, and he let her go. "Do you know what happened to me? _Did_ something happen to me?"

"Someone has forced open your aura nodes," Hisoka said, as if that explained it all.

"My what?"

"Aura — your life energy. Your _vitality._ The points on the body from which aura flow—" He rose to his feet, towering over her even without his shoes. Winry almost backed away to give herself space.

" _Don't run away or struggle, and don't lie. I am restraining myself as best I can already,"_ he'd said. She forced herself to stand her ground.

Hisoka touched his pointer and middle finger to each of her shoulders, to the base of her throat, to the bottom of her sternum. The insides of her elbows. Then he nudged her between her eyes before sitting back down.

"Aura gradually leaks away without repercussions normally, but when your nodes have been forced open—" He opened his hand as he said it. "—and you do not close them or control how quickly you aura escapes, you'll grow weaker and weaker. If you expend large amounts of energy at the same time, the process happens much quicker."

It was what he had done to Kastro during the match, she realized. By the end of the fight, Kastro had barely been able to get up.

"That was the steam around Kastro's body? And was aura what you used on your feet, and on his?" Winry asked.

Hisoka's head jerked up and he stood quickly, watching her with an expression of genuine — almost comical — surprise. His uncharacteristic reaction caught her as completely off-guard as she had him, and Winry moved away without thinking about what she was doing, only for him to grip her chin in his hand. He stared at her face, feeding his hungry eyes with the sight of her grimace.

"You saw that?"

"Yes."

"You are a onesome little creature, aren't you," Hisoka marveled breathily. "No matter. You'll need to close off your nodes. Your _aura_ is leaking all over me."

Winry yanked her face out of his grasp, and he chuckled low in his throat then paced away from her.

"I saw it during the fight — the 'steam' leaving your body while you sat watching. Your loss is subtle. If I had not paid attention during the match, I might not have noticed it at all.

"Stand naturally," he instructed. "Relax yourself. Close your eyes. Concentrate on keeping your aura in your body."

She cast a distrustful glare on him, but did as he bid.

"Your aura is like blood — it runs through you. Feel it coursing its way. Find its pulse, then visualize it flowing." His voice was suddenly beside her ear. Winry flinched. "From your head to your shoulders, to your fingertips, through your torso, to your feet. Visualize its complete circuit.

"Now — visualize it slowing. Don't push it back down, let it recede. Yes, gently. Feel it surround you, encompassing your body like a second skin."

She _could_ feel it. It felt like the mineral oil that she quenched the hot steel for automail in. It was already familiar. She wasn't aware of the quiet sigh she gave.

"Be aware of this feeling. It needs to be second nature to you, to keep your aura in." Winry nodded, and she felt his breath on her neck. "Good."

"How long do I have to do this?" she asked, opening her eyes and turning to face him.

"For as long as you live. If you don't, your aura will leak away until you die."

"How did this happen! I was just sleeping and woke up from a nightmare, and I felt pain. I wasn't doing anything."

"This was in your hotel room that this happened?"

"Yes."

"Well. Someone must have been in your room." He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, and Winry backhanded him again. Hisoka's eyes rolled back in his head as he exhaled a shuddering breath. She recoiled away at his visceral reaction. "This is your last warning," he whispered. "Strike me again and I will take it as an invitation.

"It wasn't me," he continued after he composed himself. "That's a mystery for you to solve, and this wasn't the reason for why I called you here."

"What do you want then?"

Hisoka strode away from her to where a pile of his clothes laid. He rummaged through them, then returned holding out a rectangular piece of card stock.

It was an _Atelier Garfiel_ appointment card, marked for today and — Winry glanced at her watch — now. _1 hour appointment with Winry Rockbell for Hisoka Morow._ Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline as he sat.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"It means that I am paying you to be here right now, _Miss Rockbell._ You are at my service." He gestured to a second armchair, then pressed his fingertips together in a steeple. "Make yourself comfortable."


	12. Warmongers

Winry reluctantly took a seat across from Hisoka, folding her hands in her lap while still holding the business card, and pursing her lips together tightly.

"What can I do for you?"

"I want you to tell me about automail, of course."

"You already heard about automail," she countered with a frown. "I _know_ you were listening when I explained it to Chrollo on the airship."

"You were explaining it in casual conversation to a stranger. I expect you to explain it to me now, directly, as a customer."

She hesitated. It wasn't unheard of for hobbyists to sacrifice their limbs of their own will in order to upgrade to automail, but the majority of those people were warmongers — people who wanted to be indestructible in battle. Thinking about that now though, perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised by his inquiry.

Winry sighed.

"Automail is mechanical, armored prosthetic limbs. They're surgically connected to the nerve ends so the wearer can move them at will as they would their own appendage. Steel is the most common material, but I've also used carbon fiber and aluminum, too.

"The installation process is the most difficult, and it has to be done by a bio-mechanical engineer. In the cases of accidental amputations, often more of the limb needs to be removed for clean connections to be made. First time installations require each nerve to be connected to a permanent housing unit on the body, and that is incredibly painful — but nothing compared to what happens when all the nerves connect simultaneously when the automail limb is attached.

"It takes years to recover from the surgery, plus the time it takes to learn to master using the new limb. On average I'd say three years." To that Hisoka pouted. She sighed, and thought of Ed. "It has happened faster, but that's very rare.

"Maintenance needs to be done on the limb often. You have to oil it frequently. There will be times where upgrading becomes necessary — those are both expensive and painful. Environmental extremes can cause a lot of discomfort as well. I heard about a man who had an automail lower leg, but because of the metal he ended up with frostbite above it and had to have the rest of his leg amputated."

"How does the automail function?"

"What's bungee gum?" Winry countered, and Hisoka blinked then gave her an almost leering smile.

"I believe this is _my_ appointment. If you have questions you want to ask me, I can schedule one for you."

She blew a puff of air upward out of frustration, puffing her bangs. "There are steel plates, and underneath the armor are the wires, pneumatic actuators, motors, gears, so on and so forth. It's all enclosed in the limb."

"And what precisely is your role? You told the Boss you complete the process start to finish."

"I do. I am capable of doing the bio-medical engineering and partial amputations, but I'm still new at that. Each automail I install though is custom-built. I design and assemble them myself, then I also perform the connecting and finishing stages. What's bungee gum?"

"I don't think my appointment is over yet."

"Unless you want me to start measuring so I can get cutting," she said, "I have nothing else I can tell you. There isn't even automail on this side of the world anyway, and I don't appreciate you using it as a ruse to get me up here." She threw the appointment card back at him.

Hisoka caught it easily, then gave a flick of his wrist. It came careening back at her. She didn't even have time to flinch before it embedded itself in the armchair beside her head. Her question about why he had really had her summoned was immediately forgotten.

Winry stared at it in awe before yanking the card out. She touched its corners carefully before bending it in half. It was as ordinary as could be.

"How did you do that?" she asked, glancing at him.

He touched his fingers to his chest. "I am Hisoka the Magician."

"Listen, I grew up around alchemy, you can't fool me into believing this is magic. There's some sort of science to it."

"Alchemy?" Hisoka repeated, his angular brows rising.

Winry paled. "It's—It's a kind of science," she stammered. "Back where I'm from alchemy is…common."

"Alchemy isn't _science._ It's a metaphysical art."

"No, it's science." She realized too late the trap she'd walked into, and she sighed.

"Correct my misconceptions," he invited.

"It's the science of equivalent exchange and transmutation and—" She cleared her thoughts. She was used to explaining automail, but alchemy was Ed and Al's area of knowledge. Her own understanding of it was tertiary, but she could try. "It's the ability to create objects out of raw matter, or turn something into something else."

"Hmh. That sounds like conjuration."

"Conjuration?''

"You had your aura nodes opened — that is the first step to controlling Nen. Conjuration is one of the six disciplines of Nen, wherein the user can manifest objects from their aura."

"What is Nen?"

"It is a technique where someone uses their aura to facilitate abilities."

"That sounds more like magic than alchemy does. Is that what bungee gum is, though? Is it Nen?"

"You are exceptionally quick." Hisoka rested his chin on his knuckle. "I predict that, when you come into your own, you'll be a manipulator."

"A what? And why?"

"Bungee gum is one of my Nen abilities, and it has the qualities of both gum and rubber," he diverted.

"Like chewing gum? Candy?" Hisoka nodded. "And I couldn't see when you used it on the airship because my aura nodes hadn't been open then. But it's what you used to move me to higher ground in the airship."

 _"Exceptionally quick,"_ he repeated, and he looked pleased, eyes closed and smiling at her. Then he announced, "I am leaving Heavens Arena."

"Why?"

"I'm attending the 286th Hunter Exam, and with the excessive recovery time for surgery, I simply can't pursue this automail topic further until that's out of the way. I will meet with you again afterward." Winry sunk further into the seat, her shoulders slumping. "Does that prospect not please you?"

"Not really."

"That's a shame. But if you won't accept my company willingly, that makes me obligated to remind you that I saved your life tonight. You would have died, sooner rather than later, if I hadn't instructed you through closing your nodes — which, interestingly, the Boss didn't see fit to do even though I presume you spent most of the evening with him." Winry flinched. "So I will be seeing you again in the near future, to continue our discussion about automail…and alchemy. And, in return, when I see you again I'll teach you more about Nen."

"I want my gun back."

Hisoka drew it out from behind him and offered her the grip.

"Take it for now then. Once I teach you more, you'll never need it again." Winry took her gun from him and tucked it back where it belonged, then started walking away. "Aren't you going to ask me when you'll be seeing me again?" he called from behind her.

"No. It doesn't matter when that is, it'll be too soon," she said as she opened the door.

"Hmh."


	13. The Only One

Winry rounded the corner and found Chrollo, Pakunoda, Nobunaga, and Machi waiting together. The two latter looked bored and displeased to be there at all, while Pakunoda at least seemed attentive. Chrollo was the only one who looked even remotely pleased to see her.

It dawned on her in that moment that, in all the instances their paths had crossed here, she'd hadn't felt accepted. She had been an outsider to them all this entire time. When she went to new places back home — to Rush Valley, to Central — she had always felt the warmth of acceptance from the people around her, like she was one of their own. She thought of the Hughes family, how they had literally taken her into their home. The only person who had shown interest in her companionship here had been Chrollo. And Hisoka.

"Did he hurt you?" Chrollo demanded, and Winry looked up at him in bewildered confusion — then realized she was crying. She wiped her face with the backs of her hands, and shook her head.

"No, he didn't do anything. I'm…just ready to go home."

Winry slipped past them and pressed the button for the elevator, bowing her head so that her hair hid her face. At last the doors parted and she dodged in. Only Chrollo followed, and that fact wasn't lost on her. Especially now. These people were not her friends. Winry kept her face down.

"Hisoka told you how to close your nodes," Chrollo commented, and Winry nodded.

"Yes. He said he noticed during the match." She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye before directing her gaze back to the floor. His expression was solemn. "He implied that you knew they had been opened and could've helped me to close them yourself."

"He is correct. I saw it when you got in the car, but we had our meal before going directly to the fight, and I thought saying something would have alarmed you. Teaching someone to close their nodes that takes times to go through, and I believe should be done with privacy. Forgive me, Winry-san, for I intended to assist after we left the match — before he interfered. I'm sorry if he put you in a position where you felt as though you had to accept his help."

That was really what happened, wasn't it? She had felt cornered, and she'd need to repay him in the future now — equivalent exchange. She didn't want to see Hisoka ever again. She couldn't shake, however, that maybe Hisoka knew something that she didn't with regard to Chrollo. Perhaps even now Chrollo was only addressing this because she had brought it up. Maybe Hisoka really was the only one who would have helped her. The thought of _that_ was almost nauseating.

"Would I really have died?" Chrollo nodded. She wiped at the last of her tears as the elevator reached the bottom floor. The doors opened. "I'll be leaving on the next ship home," she announced, then gave him a bow. "I'm glad to have met you, Chrollo Lucilfer, and I thank you for the kindness you've shown me."

She knew he could have stopped her if he'd wanted to, but he didn't make the attempt as she hurried away. She wasn't sure she even wanted him to try to interfere with her leaving. This place was so foreign, and now felt so hostile, and her heart longed for familiarity.

* * *

The next morning she took an airship to a western seaport in the Republic of Panokea. She spent two more nights in a hotel, wasting her days going through more gift shops and collecting tokens. The return home felt much longer than the trip to Yorknew City. Her heart felt heavy, and she spent most of her time focusing on keeping her nodes closed until it was as Hisoka had said it should be — second nature.

At last the train arrived in Rush Valley and, as she finally stepped back onto the familiar ground of home, the tightness in her chest loosened. She was _home._ Looking around the platform as she climbed down the stairs, carrying her bags in her arms, everything that transpired across the sea felt like a bad dream. The things that happened here were real — they were what mattered. Winry shouldered her luggage and climbed down the stairs to the platform.

"Hello there, Winry!" a voice called, and she glanced to the side in surprise. Ed and Al approached her, and she couldn't help except smile. Her _friends._ Yes, this was where she belonged, here with them. "You look like you're in a very generous mood today!"

"Hi Ed! Hi Al!" she said, happy enough that she might have hugged them both if her arms weren't occupied. "What are you two doing showing up like this?"

There was hesitation, then they both stared pointedly at Ed's mangled arm.

Her heart sank when she saw the ruined automail. "You two still can't stay out of trouble?" The brothers plunged headlong into a bevy of excuses, but she only rolled her eyes and began walking back to Atelier Garfiel. "Come on then, Ed. Let's go fix it. Again."

* * *

"So how was it in the Republic of Tenten?" Ed asked her, watching while she unscrewed another plate to assess the internal damage underneath.

"It was very different," she admitted. "Their technology is so much more advanced than ours. They have these things call televisions. It's like a radio except you can see a picture too, as if it's happening right in front of you! And they have cellphones—"

Winry pulled hers out of her pocket and put it in his good hand. "It's a telephone you can take anywhere. You can even send pictures and videos with it. I was wondering if there was a way I could incorporate something like that into automail, but I'm worried it would be too fragile."

"Wow, would you look at that," Ed marveled. "If they can do this, I wonder what they can do with their alchemy."

"They actually don't use alchemy there at all." She unplugged a wire and Ed turned his head toward her with a frown. "Garfiel said that their science was different, but I hadn't imagined it would be like that."

She'd realized during her return by ship that the science Garfiel had referred to was actually Nen — the same Nen that had nearly killed her. And she'd wondered more than a few times whether the person who'd died on the trip the previous year had passed away from having their nodes forced open the way she had. Whether they'd just grown weaker and weaker until they couldn't so much as breathe.

"Speaking of alchemy — what about the two of you, huh? Made any progress yet?"

The conversation deteriorated quicker than she'd expected. Ed sat up, and Winry saw his face had completely locked down. She felt an ocean flood between them as he brushed her hands away. It wasn't new for him to block her out but, still raw from the harsh homesickness that had propelled her back to him, it hurt. It hurt more than it ever had before. Ed handed her back the cellphone and climbed off the exam table.

"We're still moving ahead little by little, I guess," Ed said.

Winry closed her eyes and pushed the pain down. This was Ed — it was who he'd always been, and who he always would be. She shouldn't have been surprised.

"Good," she replied curtly. "Glad to hear it."

She wrapped Ed's arm, then sent he and Al away to waste some time while she gathered the rest of the parts she needed to finish fixing it. She'd like to think that they wouldn't find much trouble to get into, but whenever she turned her back they were getting into something worse — and, it turned out she was right. Again. Winry surveyed the damage on her return to Atelier Garfiel.

"I'm back! Did you see that there was some kind of fight on Main Street so it took awhile to…"

Her jaw dropped and eyes gaped at Ed as he held the remnants of his automail in his good hand. "What happened to your arm! You careless little jerk—"

* * *

"So. Where are you headed to break your automail this time?" she accused venomously. Garfiel watched over her shoulder while she reconfigured the new wires, refusing to so much as look at Ed.

"We were thinking about doing some digging in Central," Al answered.

"You guys are going back to Central?!" Winry's mood changed instantly. Going back to Central sounded amazing, especially after how the last few weeks had gone. "I wanna come too, take me with you!"

"You just got back from Tenten," Ed objected. "What do you want to go to Central for now?"

"I'd like to go see the Hughes family again. I picked up some souvenirs for them while I was traveling — I got some for you both, too."

"It's okay if you want to go, Winry. You were mostly working on the trip across the sea. You should take a break once in awhile," Garfiel said.

"Oh really! Thanks so much, Mx. Garfiel!" she exclaimed.

"Okay, we'll all go," Ed conceded, but with less bitterness than she'd expected. "Central, here we come!"

* * *

The train ride was pleasant. During the trip Winry felt her bond with Ed and Al restrengthening, their jokes growing more relaxed. They had liked the gifts she'd picked out for them. More than once she'd considered telling them everything that had happened — from the airship to the fight, and everything in between. But then she considered their reactions...She considered what they would do if she mentioned Hisoka and his innate invasiveness.

"Okay. Guess we should stop by the military offices first," Ed said after they'd left the station. Winry beamed.

"In that case, I think I'll head straight to the Hughes' house and let them know I'm in town."

"Sounds good. We shouldn't be all that far behind you."

"'Kay, see you later!"

She headed down the street in the direction of the Hughes' home. The Hughes' had been so friendly and welcoming, and Gracia had been teaching her how to cook. Ed seemed to like her work, but she was most excited for Al to try it, too — once he got his body back. She didn't know for sure how long it would take for them to get their bodies back, but it just meant she had more time to practice. She stopped at a stand on her way to their apartment purchase a half bushel of apples to take to Gracia. A few more tries and she was pretty sure she would have Gracia's apple pie recipe mastered.

Winry climbed the stairs to the Hughes' apartment, and knocked, smiling to herself. They would be so surprised!

Elicia threw the door open so quickly it almost hit Winry. "Daddy?!" Winry looked down at the child with confusion as Elicia flung herself around her legs, sobbing.


	14. Cemetery Mink

Maes Hughes was dead.

While she had known it to be true, it hadn't really sunk in until she finally saw his gravestone. It had taken her weeks to work up the courage to allow herself to go with Gracia and Elicia, however — she was afraid she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure, and that would be the worst thing for Elicia to see. Every time someone came to the door, Elicia still ran to open it, expecting her daddy.

Gracia had been kind and didn't pressure her to go before she was ready, but once she was at the cemetery it still felt like it was too soon. Her heart broke again when she'd stared down at the small plot of land that such a great man had been confined to. _1885-1914._ A life too short. She'd had no way to know back then that the last time she'd seen him would be the _very_ last.

Although her memory of losing her parents was softened by how young she'd been when they died, and how long ago that had been, she felt the wound of Maes Hughes' death in that same place in her chest. Was that where death would always hurt?

_"I hear the Elrics' are wrecking havoc."_

_"What, again?"_

_"The MPs have been running around like crazy."_

Winry turned in the direction of the people she overheard as she walked by on her way back from the cemetery, but they were already gone. The Elrics were in another fight? She'd thought that their pursuit of the Philospher's Stone would keep them in libraries and safely away from the front lines. Ed was in the military now, yes, but she'd believed research would be their focus.

_"It seems they're after that guy who's been killing off State Alchemists—"_

Winry's heart dropped. She'd heard about the attacks but…were Ed and Al in danger? Real danger? She thought about his automail — what if something happened to it? He wouldn't be able to perform alchemy. She heard the rolls of thunder in the distance. Or, at least, she would have thought it was thunder if she didn't know better. Winry clenched her jaw and took off in that direction.

She found the first telltale signs of the fight more easily than she'd expected — rubble was strewn through an alleyway, and there were soldiers collapsed among it. Winry rushed to kneel beside them, checking each for a pulse — the heartbeats and breathing were both strong and steady. She heard another thunderclap nearby and, after a moment more to consider, she left them to continue on. Winry rounded the corner—

"You're so self-righteous, but do you remember two Amestrian doctors named Rockbell?" Ed's voice demanded, and her feet suddenly stopped moving. "The order came down to exterminate Ishval but that didn't stop them! They kept right on helping your people. Don't you remember them? Those doctors saved your life! And you killed them!"

It was only then that Winry really became aware of the man Ed and Al had cornered. His eyes were the red of an Ishvalan, and there was an X shaped scar across his face that was several shades lighter than his skin. The man's fist clenched.

"Brother!" Alphonse cried out.

Only then did Ed turn to see her where she stood in the mouth of the alley, stricken.

"What are you talking about, Ed?" she whispered.

"Winry—"

She stared at the Ishvalan, her entire body trembling as the immensity of what Ed said sank in. This…This was the man who killed them? The person who had taken her family away, making it so they would never return home to her again. He had robbed her of every family dinner, every kiss goodnight, the sound of their elation at every accomplishment. They had helped him and he had still killed them.

The man's red eyes turned back upon her, and she saw no remorse. Her knees went out from under her. She'd believed they had been casualties of war, and while that hurt her heart, she had accepted it. But for them to have been murdered—

For their murderer to be here before her—

"They were doctors, they helped people!" she said, her voice growing more frantic with every word. "They didn't deserve to die! You monster!"

Winry drew her gun, her hands trembling. For the briefest moment she remembered Hisoka, and the amusement on his face when he returned it to her. His words when he had; _"Take it for now then. Once I teach you more, you'll never need it again."_

But she was glad to have it now. She was glad. This unimaginable day had arrived and she was ready for it. This man had killed her parents. He had been killing State Alchemists. He would kill Ed and Al, too, if given the opportunity.

"Winry, hold on — you can't—" Ed said as she raised the gun.

The Ishvalan was a big man — a warrior, she could tell — and this close, she knew she wouldn't miss. She wasn't even aware she was crying, or how hard she was shaking anymore.

"This girl is the doctors' daughter?" the man asked Ed, then turned to face her. There was no fear in his tone, and when he spoke to her she still heard no regret. "You have the right. Shooting me would be justified."

That steadied her hands and stopped her tears. He knew what he had done, and he knew what he'd done was wrong — and he was willing to make the sacrifice she demanded to pay for it. It was in her power to do this. This man embodied a cycle of violence, and he was determined to continue it. He killed innocent people, and he would kill Ed and Al.

She could stop him.

"Go on, shoot."

_"Don't do it, Winry! Put down the gun!"_

_"You know you don't want to do this. Winry!"_

"Shoot, girl, but know the moment you pull the trigger there is no going back, you will be my enemy—"

He didn't realize that he was already hers. Ed and Al shouted at him — his name was Scar. The Ishvalan was distracted now, he wouldn't even know what happened until it was too late.

"Until one of us dies, boy, this chain of hatred will continue," Scar swore, and with every heartbeat Winry grew calmer. It would be too easy to just pull the trigger and have this be done. The State wouldn't persecute her, if anything they would celebrate this act and all the lives she would save in the process.

Ed and Scar quarreled loudly, and Winry knew that the State would be arriving soon to put an end to this entirely. If they came then she'd lose her chance — they'd want to take him alive. He didn't deserve that. She didn't want him to have that.

_"I would not put it past Hisoka to kill if it pleased him to do so, no matter what the rules say."_

She no longer had grounds to judge him anymore, and Winry almost envied his freedom. There was a small voice holding her back from pulling the trigger — Ed's voice.

_**"Don't shoot!"** _

Ed leapt past Scar, planting himself squarely between her and the Ishvalan. Her finger came off the trigger immediately before she could even think about whether she should. Scar had been tracking Ed, but he hesitated now that Ed was in front of her, and Al lunged into the foray to drive him back.

"Hurry and get Winry somewhere safe!" Al shouted as Scar retreated, then he went in pursuit of the Ishvalan.

Her chance was _gone._

Ed turned to face her then, and his golden eyes were soft. All the fire she'd seen in them when he'd been fighting was extinguished. This was the Ed she had known since she was a child. He covered her hands, and the gun, with his.

"Winry, let go of the gun," he whispered. "It's okay."

"But that man — you said he's the one that killed my mom and dad—" The dam broke, and Winry wiped at her tears furiously with one hand. "He tried to kill you and Al, too, Ed!"

Ed kept his hands on hers as the tears of rage left her, transmuting into tears of grief. Grief for the parents she had lost, grief for the State Alchemists who'd been needlessly killed, grief at her missed opportunity.

"I didn't shoot him," she wept. "Why not?"

"Remember in Rush Valley, you delivered that baby?" She nodded weakly. "You saved two lives. And you gave me an arm—"

His automail fingers softly drew her fingers away, one by one. So gently. She had designed his automail to help him through every day life, to help him in combat…but not for such fine, precision work as this. Winry gave a sob.

"—and a leg to replace the ones I've lost. It's your hands…They weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life." The gun clattered onto the ground, and he took her hand entirely within his. It was as though she was actually feeling his automail for the first time as the hand it was meant to replace. "That's why."

There was shouting behind them, followed by footsteps. Ed slid off his red cloak and draped it around her shoulders. A soldier reached them, and she felt Ed kiss her hair.

"Officer, take her somewhere she'll be safe," Ed commanded. He looked at her again. "Winry, Ed is still fighting so I have to go, okay? And I'm sorry — when this is over, I'll explain everything."

He rose to his feet, and his automail hand slipped away from her grasp. She watched as Ed followed the path of destruction Al and Scar had left behind, leaping over a wall and vanishing out of sight. The soldier put a hand on her upper arm to guide her away.

"Come with us, miss."

"Why?" she whispered, and the soldier glanced at her in confusion. "Why is waiting the only thing I can do?"

Winry scooped her gun back up and tucked it away before allowed herself to be led to a car. They took her to an unused office in the Central Command building, and told her only that they would let her know when they had more news of Ed and Al. Winry collapsed into a chair. She could feel fresh tears coming again, and she slammed her fist on the table to keep them at bay.

The door opened and Winry looked up as a tall, broad soldier walked in. His cobalt blue uniform was imperfect, as though he had been on-site for the earlier skirmish, and he took off his service cap with one hand. Winry stood. The soldier casually tossed the cap onto the table.

"Hello, little cemetery mink," he smiled, and Winry's spine went ramrod straight, recognition dawning.

"Hisoka?"


	15. The Same Coin (Part I)

She didn't believe her eyes at first, although she knew exactly who she was seeing. If she hadn't seen him after the fight, however, she almost certainly wouldn't have recognized him. She had never suspected Hisoka of being capable of blending in, he didn't strike her as a personality who would be able to do so. Yet he had gotten close. His hair was down again, and his face still bare. Upon closer inspection now, Winry saw that he was a bit too built for the uniform he wore — it had almost certainly been stolen. Hisoka leaned back against the door, giving her her distance.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, stepping so that the table was between them, too.

"I suppose this is sooner than you'd expected to see me back," Hisoka's voice drawled, and Winry dug her nails into her palms. "To be fair, it's also sooner than I expected to be here, too."

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought it might be amusing to see you in your natural environment."

"This is hardly it."

"Well, I see why you're so particular about that little weapon you carry. I hadn't expected you to be such a quick draw." Her eyes widened. He had been _stalking_ her. He'd been someplace, just watching what happened between her and Scar. "After that display, I may continue to maintain my habit of disarming you on sight."

"One day you'll do that and I'll die when I'm not able to protect myself."

"I've already told you that you won't need that anymore once I'm through with you."

Winry turned up her nose. "I don't appreciate you implying that you intend to be in that much contact with me, or that you presume I consent to be around you at all."

"It would be a waste of ability if you declined to learn more about Nen. You already taught yourself Gyo at the match, after all. I take it that alchemy doesn't come naturally to you — but I predict Nen does."

"Where did you steal the uniform from?"

"One of the soldiers in the alley. You checked their vitals then continued on your way, and didn't so much as look twice at them."

"Did you kill them?"

"No. Though I imagine he won't be very pleased when he wakes up without it. Would you have been unhappy if I had killed him?" Winry began to respond, but he held up a finger to pause her. "Consider your response carefully first."

"…That is completely different," she hissed, quickly realizing what he was driving at. "That Ishvalan was not an innocent bystander! He killed my mother and father!"

"I've heard about these Ishvalans since arriving here. It seems to me that they were innocent bystanders at the beginning. Your country is fond of war." Winry stammered, flustered, but he waved a hand to dismiss whatever else she might say. "I won't judge bloodshed. Which brings me to why I'm here, I wanted to ask you while it's…fresh."

His lips curved upward, and Winry nearly shuddered under his gaze. She would have if she didn't think he would enjoy the reaction.

"I already complimented that you're a quick draw, but you hesitated to pull the trigger. Why?"

"I don't really want to talk about that."

"But I love idle chat."

Hisoka left the door to sit down in a chair at the table, swallowing most of the distance Winry had put between them. He sat with his legs crossed at the knee, folding his hands under his chin. The pose was disconcerting to see him — or even anyone — do while wearing a military uniform. The soldiers were strict and rigid, and his mannerisms were entirely to the contrary.

"Why are you here so soon? It's only been a few weeks. Is my luck that bad?"

"Not at all, but it seems mine is."

"What happened to going to the Hunter Exam?"

Hisoka feigned an expression of guilt. "One of the Examiners wasn't meeting my expectations, so I decided to kill him. Unfortunately the other Examiners intervened, so I didn't succeed. Now your turn. You hesitated to pull the trigger. Why?"

"What made him unworthy?" Winry asked instead.

"Hmh." Hisoka closed his eyes, pleased. "He was overconfident for his skill level. He never should have been a Hunter to begin with. Why did you hesitate?"

"What are Hunters?"

He laughed aloud now, and the amusement in his amber eyes was sharp and cutting. Winry stepped away from the table, reluctant to give up her ground but too unnerved to remain this close.

"Hunters receive a special license, once they pass the exam, to allow them to go almost anywhere in the world — and to do almost anything. They are considered the elite members of humanity." Hisoka shrugged. "If Shalnark can do it, then I certainly can."

She was surprised by the information that Shalnark was a Hunter, but she didn't let it deter her. Instead she scoffed, "Maybe you could if you didn't try to kill your Examiners."

"Maybe you could have killed that Ishvalan if you didn't let your alchemist get inside your head," he countered, pulling out a deck of playing cards and shuffling them before her. "I appreciate your efforts to evade, but that's enough of that."

"First off, Ed isn't my alchemist." She stepped in his direction, raising a finger in annoyance. "Second, he was not inside my head."

"You began shaking when he spoke." The rest of Winry's argument died on her lips, never to be heard. "You trembled, yes, and it's clear you are a novice assassin, but you weren't shaking like _that_ until he interfered." The cards sifted through his fingers effortlessly. "I predict that, if he hadn't spoken, you would have dead Ishvalan blood on your hands."

She inhaled a long breath, and released it just as slowly.

"Why did you hesitate to pull the trigger?" he asked again, head tilting to one side while he watched her.

"Ed and I have been friends since we were children. If I did something like that, he would never look at me the same again."

"But you wanted to."

At last Winry met his gaze. He didn't even look curious, or pleased. His expression was utterly barren and devoid of emotion. If she were forced to label it, it would only be patience. He knew her answer. He merely wanted her to say it.

"Yes."

"You _still_ want to."

"Yes." Hisoka closed his eyes and nodded. "I don't want Ed to hate me."

"Love and hate are two sides of the same coin."

"It's a terrible thing to want," Winry said, lowering her eyes and lacing her fingers together. "I shouldn't want him dead. I shouldn't want to kill him myself, but once I knew who he was and what he'd done, there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to take matters into my own hands. Everyone I know though would be horrified to hear me say that."

"Your hands weren't meant to kill, they were meant to give life," Hisoka mocked, rolling his eyes as he set his cards aside. She knew she should be angry at that, too, but she wasn't. She felt as though she didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. He stood. "Do you really desire to live as they expect and demand?"

"What other options do I have? It's not my place to be anyone's executioner."

"Anyone can act as Examiner," he countered. "I do, as did the person who filled that grave you visited earlier. Yet so many people believe that they are only meant to be the examinees. The world has enough of _those."_

Hisoka picked his cap up from the table with a flourish, twirling it between his fingers before setting it on his head. He pulled the brim low — almost out of regulation, but certainly far enough down to shadow his face.

"You were at the cemetery too, then," Winry said quietly, lowering herself into her chair again, and wondering how long exactly he had been watching her.

Hisoka nodded, moving to stand beside the door. "Of course I was. When will you be returning to Rush Valley?"

"Soon — within a few days. I wouldn't be surprised if I get a call from Garfiel saying I'm needed. My clients tend to be a little high maintenance."

"We will continue this there then. In privacy. Someone has entered the radius of my En. They are not a Nen user, but there is something…unusual about them that I cannot place." Hisoka twirled his fingers at her in farewell. "Be careful of this one. Something is wrong with _it."_

The door opened, and Winry stood up once more. A soldier entered then stepped aside, and once he had, Fuhrer Bradley filled the doorway, swords at his waist.

"Winry Rockbell, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hear you're a friend of the Fullmetal Alchemist." Winry bowed, then gave a nod. "Go on and step outside, soldier," the Fuhrer said, not glancing back to look at Hisoka closely. With his stony countenance, however, he almost blended in. Hisoka left the room without a word, though Winry saw the lingering sideways glance he gave Bradley.

Hisoka's warning stayed with her longer than he did. As the Fuhrer made himself comfortable on the chair opposite her, Winry touched her gun — just to be sure he hadn't taken it again. It was still there in her pocket, but she felt something else with it. Winry glanced down as she drew out a playing card — the Jester.


	16. The Right Time

_Shorter chapter, it's been a busy few days. Should be back on schedule tomorrow._

* * *

Winry counted the days to Hisoka's inevitable return with mounting dread.

Food was bland. Her work was dull. She had difficulty sleeping. Her world in Rush Valley seemed slow and mechanical in comparison to recent weeks, and the cost of her visit across the sea had been steep. Steeper than she had told anyone — not Garfiel, nor her grandmother, or Al, and especially not Ed. Garfiel commented she had returned more focused and invested, but the fact of the matter was simply that she didn't know what else to do to pass the time it took for the clock's hands to circle twice. It felt as though there was a void she wasn't sure how to fill.

She didn't want to pursue Nen any further. She wanted to return to a time before she had gone to Yorknew City, when her greatest frustration was also her greatest joy — Ed and his frequent mishaps and automail adjustments. Instead now her waking thoughts were of how she could have avenged her parents' deaths and stopped countless others, but she hadn't. Scar had gone on to commit more murders, she read about them in the papers and heard it on the radio. She could have been the answer, but she hadn't. Her conscience also told her that Hisoka was not the resolution she needed for her moral dilemma, and she hoped he wouldn't return.

There was no avoiding it though.

Winry opened the door to her dark room after finishing her day — overalls stained and singed, her shirt not faring much better, with more than a few grease marks on her face — to Hisoka perched on the sill of her previously locked window.

She recognized his silhouette against the moonlight and street lamps immediately. His hair was back to normal, as was his attire. Winry just shut the door behind her instead of speaking, and lit the oil lamp on the nightstand beside her bed. Hisoka's face slowly turned in her direction.

"Quite the setup down there," he commented. "Business seems to be booming."

"You already said you know my country is fond of war. War means amputations and amputations mean prosthetics," Winry replied, not even feeling energized enough to be angry about his presence or observations. "Rockbell Prosthetic Limb Outfitters — my grandmother's shop in Resembool—" He nodded. It was a knowing nod. She wondered exactly how much he had taken upon himself to learn about her. "—became what it is today because the civil war went right through our land. The right place at the right time."

"Blood money runs in your veins," Hisoka said.

Though he sat across the room, the dim light from the oil lamp lended itself well enough for her to identify the staple of private amusement on his face. Always. It was as though disappointment or even common decency wasn't on the spectrum of emotions he possessed.

"Insulting me won't get you into my good graces."

"I'm not interested in your good graces anyway," he countered, and she thought she saw his tongue in the corner of his lips, but she couldn't be sure in the shadows. "Only your potential."

"I'm not interested in learning Nen."

"You don't have much of a choice. But the Ishvalan could have already been dead in the time it took you to draw your gun, if you had used Nen. He wouldn't have had any warning at all. He'd simply be gone."

"You just wanted to see me kill — you don't care about the reasons why. I won't do it."

Hisoka's eyelids lowered slightly and his smile broadened into something wicked. "I wouldn't mind bearing witness to that deflowering."

Winry shuddered and sat as far from him as she could, in the chair at her desk beside the door.

"I already told you about Nen — your aura. I talked you through how to stop it from leaking, and how to keep it around you. That part of Nen control is called Ten. Ten will slow how quickly you age, and it is the most basic line of defense."

"I'm too tired to do this right now," she objected.

"You're not tired." Hisoka rolled his amber eyes at her. "You're _bored._ You lack stimulation here. I can fix that.

"Ren will be your next lesson. Ren is when you project your aura outward — violently. Doing so magnifies your physical strength and resilience, and deepens the pool for you to draw aura from. It can be malicious, or neutral. Even non-Nen users can pick up on Ren when you charge it with hostility." His eyes closed in satisfaction. Winry thought of his match with Kastro —

_"And what happened at the end? What was that awfulness I felt?"_

_"That was Hisoka's bloodlust."_

So that had been Ren. She gave him a nod for him to continue.

"Ren can give away your ill will without you meaning to though," he warned. "And, sometimes, it can be felt even after you leave."

Hisoka climbed out of the window and let his arms fall to his sides. Winry remained seated until he gestured for her to stand as well.

"It's time for the hands on segment of this class. I want you to attack me." His voice lowered to a husky note, and she could hear his excitement. Hisoka shut his eyes then beckoned with his fingers. "I want you to attack me with Ren until I can't take it anymore."


	17. Then Hesitated Some More

Winry awoke to a finger tracing up and down her ankle, and Hisoka's shoes in her face.

She yanked her legs to her chest as she bolted upright, then every ache and pain she hadn't been aware of yet flared at once. She only remembered sitting down on the floor, worn to exhaustion, and that was her last memory. The street lamps outside had still been on then, but now the orange of dawn was coming through her window.

Hisoka didn't startle at her sudden movement. His eyelids merely opened into narrow slits that were already focused on her. Had he even been asleep? Did he know how disquieting he was? She felt like he did, and that this was all purposeful. Maybe it had begun as intentional and settled into something that was merely second nature.

Ren had been more difficult than he'd made it seem like it would be, and when he'd said attack she'd worried at first that it might actually be capable of hurting him — before deciding hurting him probably wasn't the worst outcome that could happen, and she didn't know why she worried about him anyway. By the time she'd sat down on the ground, slick with sweat and ready to pass out — something she'd managed, apparently — Hisoka had at least stopped looking bored with her. She could see her aura snapping and recoiling like violent waves while she struggled to maintain it. It was much stronger than the wispy tendrils of steam from a few hours before.

Hisoka dismissed her with a wave of his hand and closed his eyes again. The tightness in Winry's chest loosened gratefully at his disinterest in her, and quickly grabbed fresh overalls and shirt then retreated to the bathroom. She purposefully locked it, then rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. She was almost certain he had chuckled on the other side of the door for the same reason. If he wanted to intrude on her, no flimsy lock would be able to stop him.

She kept her shower short and sweet anyway. When she emerged from the shower, her hands bunched into tiny fists of anger. He had moved to lay on top of her bed, fingers laced behind his head, and — for all intents and purposes — fast asleep. Winry put her hair back in a ponytail, covered it with a bandana, then went to work as though he wasn't there.

Her entire day was a poignant reminder, however, that he was. Her body ached, she felt like if she stopped moving for a moment she would fall asleep. The real issue, however, was that she couldn't stop moving. Her body ached from sleeping on the floor but she fizzed inside. She couldn't stop moving even if she wanted to.

_You're not tired. You're bored._

"What are you doing here?" Garfiel asked over her shoulder.

Winry reflexively looked back at him then slid her goggles up onto her forehead. She could feel her bangs sticking upright under them but she had already segued into her explanation.

"I felt like the ground reaction force wasn't balanced during vigorous motions. When I was demoing it, the gait didn't seem natural, so I was fabricating a different spring—"

"I'd been using that style of spring for the past five years though," Garfiel began thoughtfully.

"I mean, I can still use an air pressure spring, but for what they said they want to do I thought a more compression spring style would be better. So I just started to—"

"You can keep going after your appointment," Garfiel said with a flippant shrug. "As long as it works."

"Appointment?"

"You have a consultation. It was scheduled to begin a few minutes ago but you didn't come out — that's why I came in to check on you."

Winry felt herself scowling. She already knew. She already damn knew exactly who she was going to find as she turned away from Garfiel. She didn't catch his comment about the "odd fellow" as she stomped toward the store front.

Hisoka stood leaning over an automail display, his hands folded neatly behind his back as though it were to prevent himself from touching it. Her work boots were loud on the wood floor as she stomped over to him.

"Cemetery mink," he acknowledged, then he reached out and flicked her goggles off her head with a fingertip.

"You are monopolizing my time," she accused, picking her goggles up off the floor and tucking them in her pocket.

"I'm paying you well for your time. Which model do you think would suit me best?" Hisoka asked, gesturing broadly around the shop.

"We have a limited variety of predesigned models, and I only work on custom designs. If you're interested in something so _uninspired—"_ It caused her physical pain to even say that lie aloud. Garfiel had to chase her away from the displays more times than either of them cared to admit. "—there are other shops and mechanics I can refer you to."

"I've paid for this appointment in advance, I intend to see it through to the end, _Ms. Rockbell_. What would you recommend custom instead?"

Winry hesitated. Then hesitated some more.

"It…It depends on what you want to do with it."

Hisoka smiled and shrugged. "We should speak someplace more private."

Even more hesitation. Then Winry reluctantly pointed to an examination room, and Hisoka didn't need to be invited twice. She followed behind as he strode in and gracefully hopped up on the exam table.

"What do you want to see?" he asked, ever smiling.

"I don't want to see anything. You're the one who said we'd need to speak privately," Winry countered.

"So I did."

"So what do you want?"

"I want to continue my normal life with it, but I suppose every client tells you that. I need to be able to fight and know it will be better than what I was given."

It was a speech she normally heard from the hobbyists — they wanted to be stronger, to fight harder, to go farther than their human limitations allowed. In that aspect, at least, Hisoka wasn't that abnormal.

"I can adjust the percentages of metals to suit what you need. Steel is stronger, but increasing the amount of chrome will make it more resistant to rust. If you're going to be in cold weather, I recommend more aluminum and carbon fiber."

"I seldom visit the cold. Where would you recommend connecting?"

"Which limb were you wanting to replace?"

Hisoka stretched out both his arms, looking back and forth between them, considering carefully.

"I suppose I should start with just one, in case this doesn't work the way I want it to. I can always remove the other later," he pondered aloud, then his eyes rose to meet hers. "Which would do you want to take?"

"Whichever is weaker."

He smiled, and lowered his right arm. "Hmh."

Winry pulled a small notepad from one pocket of her jumpsuit, and fished a pen from another. She unceremoniously snapped on a pair of gloves before taking a cloth tape measure from the counter and turning back to him.

"My, my, you're very to the point," he said as she pinned the tape measure against the firmness of his shoulder and ran it down the length of his arm. She paused to write the numbers down.

"Most people opt for the shoulder when they're doing voluntary amputation. We could do around the elbow but I think there'd be a higher failure risk to connect there if you're going to be fighting. For combat purposes I'd recommend primarily steel, with some chrome but not much. You'll need to do more maintenance on it though to prevent it from rusting, and be aware of what you expose it to for the same reason." She wrapped the tape measure around his wrist, scribbled some more, then moved it a few inches further up his forearm. "How will this affect your Nen?"

His eyes closed and he smiled. She'd begun to realize this was the closest to a genuine smile he ever got. The question pleased him.

"I've been considering that myself. Even if my aura doesn't accept it as part of me, I can extend my aura to encompass it. My only concern is whether I'll be able to extend aura from it as well as I can now."

"It would take time to master, I'm sure," she murmured as she wrapped the tape around his bicep.

His head turned quickly toward her, and she flinched away without meaning to. He was so close. She could see the slightest imperfections of his face, and the texture of the makeup he wore for the blue tear on his cheek.

"I don't have a three year recovery window, mink," he said through gritted teeth, voice lowering to almost a threat, even though he continued to smile.

Winry's insides clenched as she felt the intensity of his aura wash over her. It was like drowning in poison. She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on him. She hesitated, then stared at him harder — the way she had when he'd fought Kastro. Then she saw it. The anger that came rolling off him in waves, thick and rolling and malicious. Winry let the tape measure flutter to the ground as she reached out to try to see if she could touch it.

It was Hisoka's turn to pull away.

His amber eyes went to her fingers then back to her face with surprise. It was as though the mask he wore had temporarily slipped away, and the aura he was exuding disappeared as quickly as it had come. Surprise made him look younger. She suddenly wondered how old he was.

"Maybe with Nen it won't take you as long as others," she said. "I mean, it only took Ed a year and that was without Nen."

"Ed. Your alchemist."

"He's not my alchemist!"

Winry bent to snatch the tape measure up from the floor. Hisoka's foot suddenly lowered on top of her hand.

"How did he learn alchemy?"

She yanked her hand out from under the heel of his shoe, and clutched it her chest, glaring up at him.

"I don't think alchemy would come naturally to you. But Nen does," she snapped.

Hisoka leapt off the table and landed crouching in front of her before she had time to inhale. The fingers of his right hand closed firmly around her throat, pinning her back against the table beside her. He didn't put enough pressure to cause her discomfort — yet. His amber eyes were empty.

"How did he learn alchemy?"

"I'm not telling you sh—"

His grip tightened and Winry gasped. She'd expected him to crush her windpipe, but instead his fingertips pressed on her arteries. The left and right common carotid arteries, she thought as a diagram from her parents' medical books came to mind. It took only a few seconds for her head to begin to spin.

"How did he learn alchemy?" he asked again as he loosened the pressure on her. "I can pay you for the information, or I can take it by force. I have all the time in the world."

"Or until Chrollo calls you back."

His fingertips closed on her throat again, and Winry had the presence of mind this time to grab his arm with both hands to try to shove him away — no success.

"He leads, but it is a stretch to say I follow," he whispered. Hisoka brushed her off his arm with his free hand like she was nothing, then laced the fingers of his left hand through hers. The feeling of his palm flush against her palm made her skin crawl. "I'd rather pay you for the privilege — it's too soon to kill or break you. But if you don't tell me, I'll start by breaking each of your fingers. One by one."

"Break my fingers and you can find someone else to design your automail," Winry managed to gasp as her vision began to throb. Then realized too late that's why he'd threatened to do exactly that. She couldn't work at all if her fingers were broken.

"Like the shop next door?" His grip lightened for a few seconds, just enough for her bearings to return before he returned the pressure. "Name your price."

She did the only other thing she could think of. She lashed out with Ren, striking at him with all her might. His amber eyes opened wide — his nostrils flared. Then Hisoka leaned in close to her face, and dragged his tongue across her cheek. It was warm and wet. Winry whimpered.

"One million cen," she squeaked out.

He exhaled and she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. The tip of his nose touched her now. Her vision pulsed darker and darker.

"Hmh." Winry collapsed back against the table when he released her throat, then tried to use her feet to scoot herself even further away, out from beneath him. He pinned her legs with his instead and he exhaled a trembling sigh. "Don't run—" His voice was strained. "I…don't think I can control myself if you do…" She swallowed hard and tried to steady her breathing. "How did your alchemist learn his trade?"

"He has a teacher in Dublith."

Hisoka smiled.

"Take me to them."


	18. Wild Card

"Izumi won't teach you," Winry warned as she boarded the train ahead of Hisoka, scowling back over her shoulder at him.

The magician gave a blasé shrug then advanced to stand on the same step as her, invading her space entirely and forcing her to continue forward onto the train to get away from him. Winry felt more like a hostage than a traveling companion.

Garfiel had been reluctant to let her leave again, and understandably so. Hisoka, however, had simply drawn Garfiel aside. Their conversation had been quiet. Winry's heart raced with pure, undiluted panic that Hisoka might try to hurt Garfiel if Garfiel refused, but it didn't come to that. Eventually the two shook hands and Garfiel had simply waved her away. More money for her time, she was sure.

He didn't initiate conversation with her, and that was more than fine for the first hour and some. It was curious, however, to watch him staring out the window at her country. She wondered if it was as foreign feeling to him as his country had been to her. It was only a matter of time before her curiosity got the better of her mutual silence.

"Where were you born?"

Hisoka raised an eyebrow at her sudden question. "I have no interest in my past."

"I didn't ask that. I asked where you were born."

"Saherta."

"Near Yorknew City?"

His head tilted to one side and he leaned his cheek against his fist, eyeing her with what she could only interpret as annoyance. "I have no interest in my past. Neither should you."

"If you don't care, then there shouldn't be any reason not to tell me."

He sighed. This apparently wasn't the hill he wanted to die on, as he continued, "I lived near Glam Gas Land. There was originally a gas deposit there, and after it depleted hotels and casinos were built instead. The best entertainers in the world work there." Hisoka drew out his cards and shuffled them through his fingers with ease before they disappeared from his hands. "And the best magicians."

"Were your parents performers?"

"I don't remember what they did, and I don't care to."

"What do you remember?"

He narrowed his eyes at her then looked at the seat directly in front of him. His features slowly relaxed. "Bungee Gum."

She knew she paid too much attention for her own good, but she could tell that his guard was still up. Looking back, she had realized she'd never seen him let it down, not even for so much as a second. Even in the moments earlier when she had briefly wondered if he'd been asleep, it hadn't taken her long to realize it was unlikely. She wondered if he truly slept, or if he merely dozed. If even that.

"Do you trust me?" she asked abruptly.

"Hmh." Hisoka didn't say anything at first, instead reaching in his pocket and withdrawing her gun to show her. Winry felt her face tighten with rage, and her hand snapped out to snatch it back, but he moved it just out of reach before tucking it away again. "No, mink. I do not."

"Why?" Winry demanded.

"You are a onesome little thing. A wild card — difficult to predict. I have yet to decide whether that is a quality I enjoy about you. So no, I do not trust you. I likely never will." His eyes rolled before meeting hers. "And it's best if you don't trust me in return."

She wasn't certain what she disliked about his response. She did not trust him either, and had no intention of doing so. It would be naive and foolish of her to expect him to feel any differently, though she supposed that by virtue of him being so much more powerful than her that whether he needed to trust her wouldn't matter much.

Winry shifted slightly to reach in her pocket, then held out her closed fist to him. He watched her for a moment, then frowned and put his hand beneath hers, palm up. She didn't dare look away or blink as she watched for his reaction.

His brows raised high and Hisoka's lips parted into a small 'O' of surprise, pinching it between his middle finger and thumb to evaluate in the light before he closed his eyes and smiled.

"Where did you find this?"

"In a gift shop after I left Heavens Arena."

"A gift shop," he repeated quietly, closing his fist around the pink and white pack of Bungee Gum. "I don't remember the last time I even thought to look for it."

Winry waited, lips pursed, half expecting him to thank her but also aware it was unlikely that saying thank you would even occur to him. He met her halfway instead.

"You are a wild card," was what he whispered again as he reclined back into the seat, taking her gun from wherever he'd hidden it, and set it in her lap.

As she returned her gun to where it belonged, she decided she preferred that more than a 'thank you' anyway.


	19. Who Is He

"I think," Hisoka began, glancing at her sideways from the corner of his eye, "Izumi and I shall get along fine."

They had reached the address that the telephone operator had given Winry, and she found herself staring up at a white storefront that had seen better days. 'MEAT' was written on its signage, with the silhouettes of animals beneath. It was a butcher shop. Winry rolled her eyes at Hisoka. He simply gestured for her to go first.

She'd met Izumi only once, when Izumi had come to her grandmother's house to tell them that she was taking the boys. It had been years ago, and her grandmother had shooed her out of the room for that conversation. She hadn't been around Izumi enough to forge an opinion of the woman.

Winry climbed the steps, where she was greeted by an 'Open' sign that hung with a green cactus leaf wreath. She didn't hear Hisoka's steps following her, but she knew he was still close. After taking a moment to straighten her overalls and smooth her hair, she knocked.

Inside she could hear footsteps thump closer, then closer still, until the door opened for her. A tall, brawny man with a thick, dark beard and black eyes stared down at her. He wore a white apron that was stained with fresh blood. Winry vaguely remembered him — it was Izumi's husband.

"Hello," she said, giving a slight bow. "I'm Winry Rockbell, a friend of Ed and Al's. I'd like to speak to Izumi, please."

His gaze left Winry to settle on Hisoka behind her. "And who's this?"

"This...is a friend of mine," she answered, not knowing how else to define Hisoka's role to her, although friendship felt far too generous of a label. The man grunted.

"You'll have to lie better than that to Izumi," he rumbled, then stepped to the side. He didn't look away from Hisoka as the magician entered behind her, then Winry heard the door close.

"Who is it, Sig?" a woman's voice called from next room down the hall — Izumi.

"It's the Rockbell girl."

"The Rockbell—" Izumi stepped into the hallway a half second later, and she was exactly as Winry remembered her. Tall and slender, with her black hair wound into braids that she kept back in a ponytail. Her eyes were dark like Sig's. "You're Pinako's granddaughter."

"Yes, hello. I'm sorry to intrude."

"No intrusion. Come in." Izumi's gaze leveled on Hisoka, and Winry read the immediate distrust. The door only opened for Hisoka because she was with him. She took comfort in that — right now, he needed her. That was the best guarantee for her safety that she could ask for.

Izumi and Sig led them past the business side of the building, to the very back where they lived. Their sitting room was plain but quaint, and Izumi sat in an armchair while Sig removed his bloodstained apron and leaned himself against the wall. That left the couch for Winry…and Hisoka. She reluctantly seated herself on one side, leaving plenty of room for him. But, to her relief, he perched himself on the arm with as much distance between them as possible.

"I haven't seen you since you were a girl," Izumi murmured. "Hm. You were smaller than Ed back then but not anymore. What can I do for you?"

"I know you taught Ed... _alchemy,"_ she said. Then she blushed, feeling guilty for how she'd said the word. Like it was dirty, or shameful. Izumi's brows furrowed together — she'd noticed it too, then. "This is Hisoka." She gestured to him on the couch. "He's interested in learning alchemy, too."

"Why the Hell would I do that?" Izumi snarled, cracking her knuckles.

"Hisoka is very capable—"

_"I don't care about your vote of confidence."_

Except it was Izumi and Hisoka speaking the words together. Izumi's eyes narrowed on him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I am Winry's teacher," Hisoka said placidly. "We don't have alchemy where I'm from, but we have an…equivalent—" His smile was toying. "—of which, I am a master. I am willing to trade secrets with you."

"I'm not interested in your—"

Sig suddenly launched off his feet, slamming against the ceiling before ricocheting off to hit the wall.

"Honey!"

"Hisoka, don't!"

Izumi was swinging for Hisoka, but Winry reached him first. She dove in front of him, arms crossed in front of her to take the blow the way Ed and Al did whenever she watched them spar. Her eyes shut tight and, out of a moment of desperation, she concentrated on her aura. _Ten…It is the most basic line of defense._

The blow sent her tumbling backward into Hisoka's arms, and she gasped aloud as they shot to the safety of other side of the room — the way she had on the airship. He'd used bungee gum and she didn't need Gyo to know that now. Izumi whirled around to face them as Winry pushed herself out of Hisoka's embrace.

"What was that?" Izumi demanded, then she turned her face away to cough into a white kerchief. It came away from her mouth dotted red.

"You're sick—"

Winry began to step in Izumi's direction, not sure what she could do to help but only thinking that maybe she could help at all. But Hisoka took her by the hand and, with a simple twirl — as though they were dancing — she was standing behind him. He stood facing the alchemist and her husband, who was getting back to his feet now, with no fear or apprehension. For the briefest of moments, Winry almost fooled herself into seeing him as a powerful, unassailable protector instead of as a monster ensuring his investment.

"That," Hisoka said, "was my alchemy equivalent. Winry is still new, but as you can see she is a quick learner. That blow should've broken her arms, I'm sure you know that."

Izumi and Sig stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chests. They were a perfect pairing. They merely glanced at one another and it was as though they had held a full conversation in that one look.

"And in return for teaching me this…you want to learn alchemy," Izumi said, and Hisoka smiled.

"Yes."

Izumi turned to Winry, then looked to her husband. "Out of here. Both of you."

Winry bowed and stepped outside the door with Sig close behind. Sig leaned against the wall opposite of her, staring at her from beneath his thick eyebrows.

"Where did you find that character?" he asked gruffly. "You seem like a nice girl. Him? Not so much."

"Across the sea," Winry whispered.

"So who is he?"

Her head turned toward the doorway as she caught bits and pieces of what Izumi and Hisoka were saying. They were polar opposites — she was fierce and aggressive when she spoke, while his responses were almost musical.

_"What are you after?"_ she demanded.

_"An advantage,"_ was Hisoka's calm response. _"Many people can do what I do where I'm from. I want to do what they cannot."_

_"What else do you want from this?"_

_"What else is there to gain? I saw your protégé at work in Central City when he was chasing down that serial killer. It was impressive. More than sufficient."_

_"Some people want to learn alchemy because they think it holds the secret to immortality."_

Winry heard Hisoka chuckle. Except he sounded genuinely amused.

_"Fighting isn't worth doing without the risk of death."_

It was Izumi's turn to chuckle.

"So who is he?" Sig asked again.

Winry lowered her eyes. "Like I said, he's a friend."


	20. The Guise

Winry rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the arm of her chair, as she watched Izumi and Sig playing cards. They'd been playing Rummy, but had switched to War after both of them had drawn knives on each other before deciding to kiss and make up. Now they were both leaning forward over the table between them, brows furrowed, their stares alternating between the cards in their hands and the cards on the table.

She was on the verge of dozing off. There was a blanket draped around her, and a fire warmed the room against the chill that came over Southern Amestris at night. It was comfortable. Sleep was wrapping its arms around her.

Hisoka had opened Izumi's nodes shortly after dawn. Most of the morning had been him working with Izumi, talking her through closing them off again. Winry hadn't realized to what degree Nen really _did_ come to her naturally until she had watched Izumi struggle for hours with what had taken her minutes. Although Ed didn't speak much of his time with Izumi, when he did discuss her it had always been with such high regard. As though she were capable of anything. It was disconcerting to watch the woman flail. Even now, she focused her aura into her eyes to watch Izumi, and she could see the woman's aura wisping away into the air.

The afternoon had been for Hisoka. Izumi had given him a book and told him to read it, then went back to the butcher shop to work. Winry hadn't even known where he'd gone off to until Izumi had sent her to feed the chickens at dinnertime, when she found him outstretched on a limb of the tree in the backyard, reading. He had glanced down at her, made that "Hmh" noise, then returned his gaze to the book.

"Damn Joker," Izumi snapped.

"The Jester is king," Sig said.

Winry opened her eyes as Sig chuckled, and Izumi leaned away from the card game, turning her nose up.

"What happened?" Winry asked.

"I laid out the Jester," he explained. "And the Jester beats all other cards."

She had realized the obvious significance of Hisoka leaving her the Jester card from his deck back in Central, when the Fuhrer had come to see her. She was aware that it was his calling card — what it represented. But with this new information, she wondered if her deduction had been too shallow.

The Jester is King.

"How did you get involved with a man like that?" Izumi asked as she shuffled the cards again, the cards clicking heavily in her fingers while she did. Her eyes watched Winry with suspicion.

"She saved two hundred lives," Hisoka said abruptly, and Winry's head tilted back to see him standing behind her chair, leaning on it with his arms folded across the top rail. "She has a special power when it comes to machines."

Chilling. He was chilling in the most absolute. She didn't hear him enter, walk across the room, or take up residence behind her. Neither had Izumi given any indication she'd seen him do it either. If he ever wanted her dead, it would be merely when he found it convenient — not when he found the opportunity. His hair was wet and his face clean, and it wasn't any less disconcerting to see him like that now than it had been the first time. Hisoka didn't play a persona with how he dressed, or in his mannerisms. It was exactly who his true self was.

"How did you do that? Does Ed know?" Izumi demanded, and Winry's face grew hot.

"I didn't tell Ed, and please don't you tell him either. I didn't say anything to him because I knew he'd worry and interfere—"

"There was a mechanical failure with the airship we were on. Winry repaired the ship, and saved many lives." Hisoka poked the top of her head with one finger. "Mine included. And my...boss."

"An airship?"

"You've never heard of them? You have to go on one! They fly, and are powered by—" Winry began, but Sig gave the slightest shake of his head, effectively derailing her. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "Please don't tell Ed or Al."

"Hmh. I decided to keep an eye on her after that, and it's good I did. As I explained to you earlier, having ones nodes opened and left open is extremely dangerous — someone had done it to her, and I noticed her aura _leaking."_ Winry wanted to hit him upside the head for the tone of his voice, the way he said it. "I decided to teach her how to close them. She's a natural."

"Are you going to tell the boys about Nen?" Izumi asked.

"No!" Izumi's brows lowered. Winry flushed even brighter at her outburst. "They have enough on their plate without having to worry about me, and I'm fine."

"You don't think they should know?"

"They keep their mouths shut — they never tell me what's going on. I don't see why there should be a different standard for me."

"There shouldn't be," Hisoka agreed.

Izumi pursed her lips but nodded. "I know what you mean. I won't tell them." She looked back over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. "It's time we go to bed, hon." Sig swept the cards up into his hand, then touched the small of Izumi's back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Winry said, bowing her head. Hisoka merely nodded as the couple left the room.

Silence lingered between them for several long minutes. Then—

"Do you want me to kill them?"

Winry twisted in the chair to look up at him, lips parted in horror at his suggestion. He stood towering over her, head tilted and watching the doorway with narrowed eyes.

"Why would I want you to do that?!"

"They made you feel badly about something that excited you," he explained, and his broad shoulders rolled as he shrugged.

"Y-You'd kill them over just that?"

"I would kill them over lesser things," Hisoka admitted with a sigh. "Though this would make it feel more worthwhile."

"You need her to learn alchemy though."

He shrugged again. "I could find someone else. So, shall I kill them, mink?"

"No!"

Winry rose to her feet to face him, wrapping the blanket around her as she did. The flames in the fireplace made shadows flicker in the crevices and ravines of Hisoka's face. He looked so cold — so disconnected. He was a murderer, and she knew it. He'd said in not so few words that if he wanted to kill Izumi he would, regardless of the reason. Hisoka stepped around the armchair, and Winry dug her heels into the ground to prevent herself from backing away. She raised her chin as he cut the distance between them down to inches. Only then did she notice how he was dressed. He wore gray linen pants with a white linen shirt, with the top button left undone — Amestrian clothes. No shoes.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, having a moment of déjà vu as she gestured to his clothing.

Hisoka smiled, and the movement of his lips let the shadows pool deeper around his face. He looked so sinister. "You tell me."

She hesitated just a moment too long, and he wrapped a hand around her throat. Winry inhaled sharply, instinctively shutting her eyes, but he didn't squeeze. She felt his breath on her ear.

 _"You_ tell _me._ Why."

"It's a mask — you want them to think you're normal." Winry opened her eyes as his hand released her and fell back to his side. "You'll let them think that Hisoka the Magician is the guise, and that this is who you really are."

"Don't you believe so?" he asked.

"No. It's the other way around." Winry forced herself to meet his amber eyes. "I don't want you to kill them. And I'm leaving tomorrow anyway."

"Leaving?" His brows rose high. "We aren't done here."

Winry laughed. Really laughed, smiling and feeling herself glow from the inside in honest amusement at his response.

"We? I agreed to bring you here — to introduce you. I've done that, my side of our agreement has been fulfilled. I'm going back to Rush Valley. To my job."

"I see." Hisoka tapped a finger against his chin. "Garfiel didn't explain to you then."

"Explain what?" He only closed his eyes and shook his head, turning away slightly. Winry just couldn't stop herself. She shoved him. He took a half step back, but only because she'd caught him off-guard. Hisoka blinked. "Explain _what?"_ she demanded again.

"You've been released from your apprenticeship. I paid for the cost of your training thus far, and for an additional year — to be completed after I'm done with you."

Winry slapped him. The sound of her open palm striking him sounded like a thunderclap. Then she stepped forward, pushing him again; she gained another half step of ground before he dug his heels in. Then she struck him again.

"How could you!" she sobbed. Everything was blurry. Tears filled her eyes and it was suddenly so hard to breathe. "How _dare_ you! You had no right!" Hisoka seized both her wrists as she drew her arm back to hit him again, overpowering her to force her hands down. "You had _no right!"_

"Stop, Winry—"

The low growl he spoke her name in was a warning, but it fell on deaf ears. The anger inside her was too great. Winry tried to yank her hands from his grip to no avail then resorted to kicking him instead and, when that failed, she gathered her aura and lashed out as hard as she could at him.

She began to shriek but his hand clamped down over her mouth, while he swept her legs out from beneath her with a single kick. Winry crashed to the ground, but he followed her down, catching himself on his knees and elbows over her. The fall knocked the wind out of her — Hisoka seized the opportunity to grab both her wrists again.

"Let go of me! How could you! My _apprenticeship!_ Who do you think you are!"

 _"Stop,"_ he hissed.

Winry raised her head off the ground and bit down on his forearm so hard that she tasted blood. Hisoka's grip only grew tighter. She lashed out with Ren again, and rolled violently at the same time, twisting her wrists out of his grasp. He was quicker though. Before she could scrambled out from beneath him, he had a hand around her throat, forcing her head up and back toward him until her spine arced and sang with agony. His other hand was on her waist. On her skin. Winry swallowed down her cry of pain when she felt his hot, ragged breaths on her shoulder. She suddenly became aware of something pressing against her back — her eyes widened. Then, somehow even worse, she felt the weight of his bloodlust settling on her. Smothering her. Trapping her.

"Don't—"

"I need—" His voice…He didn't even sound human. Winry trembled as fresh adrenaline punched through her. "I need you—"

"Hisoka, please don't—" she gasped out, and his grip tightened.

"I need you…to go upstairs," he hissed, "and lock the door. Lock your window." He let go of her painfully slow, loosening one finger at a time. She kept her breathing shallow. "I want to hurt you—"

She was free of his grasp then, and Winry inched herself out from beneath him. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage as she dared a glance back at him. His eyes were rolled far back in the sockets, lids flickering, with his tongue in the corner of his mouth. He was breathing just as hard as she was.

He whispered, "Go."

For the first time, she second-guessed whether she should actually leave. What would he do if she left him alone like this? Would he go out and find someone to kill? Would he kill Izumi? She hesitated, then reached out and lightly touched his shoulder.

His head whipped around like a viper, seizing her wrist with one hand while his teeth snapped shut on her arm. Winry bit her lip to keep from screaming from the agony. Hisoka's amber eyes flew open, locking with hers, and blood — her blood — trickled from around his lips. Her knees were on the verge of giving out, and her free hand shook violently as she touched his cheek.

"Hisoka, let go," she ordered, channeling the last of her strength and resilience into those words.

His maw opened.

Winry yanked her arm away from him, clutching it tight to her chest. It was wet with her blood. She didn't dare take her eyes off him as she backed away slowly, one painstaking inch at a time. He watched her like a feral animal, tracking her every movement. Finally she stepped into the hallway, then crept up the stairs.

She glanced at her bedroom door, then to Izumi and Sig's. The time it took her to contemplate and decide was short — Winry sat down outside their door, resting her back against it.

Downstairs she heard the door to the shop open and shut.

Then silence.


	21. Put So Much Faith

Someone touched her shoulder, and Winry slammed her head against the wall as she violently startled awake. Her hands went to the fresh, tender spot and moaned softly. Now that she was awake, she could feeling the bite on her arm again, too.

"Be careful," Hisoka's voice whispered. "It took hours for me to calm down without you enticing me again so soon. What are you doing here?"

Her eyes fluttered opened, and it took her a moment to find his silhouette in the dark hallway. She should be scared — a few weeks ago, she would have been. A few weeks ago she had lived in perpetual fear of his mere presence. It was exhausting, however, to maintain a state of sustained panic. Fright came in waves now instead, and she was aware the worst had passed. What had transpired downstairs had been the wave breaking on the rocks, and now the water had receded back out to sea, leaving her sore and unhappy.

"I expected you to come back."

"Hmh. This isn't where I told you to go."

"I was more concerned about you reconsidering my opinion on whether you should kill Izumi, rather than you reconsidering if you wanted to kill me."

Hisoka took her hand and drew Winry up to her feet. His skin was cool, and his hands were calloused and rough. The black surrounding them was complete, and she hastily drew her fingers out of his grasp and instead put her hand against the wall to find her bearings. She felt the frame of Izumi's doorway, and knew where she was then. Winry took a blind step in the direction of her room, not even hearing her own feet she was so quiet, while keeping her hand against the wall and guarding her injured arm with her body.

"You shouldn't put so much faith in me." She flinched when he brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear — and immediately decided that she did not prefer the dark if it meant that he could see her, but she couldn't see him in return. She sensed, rather than saw, him loom over her. "This is the second time in a matter of days that we've been in that predicament. "

"Stop instigating situations," Winry hissed, jabbing her finger against his chest.

"Come to my room," Hisoka invited solemnly, and Winry's face immediately puckered, "so I can make amends for my behavior."

"Absolutely not!"

"Your room instead?"

Before Winry could object, he put a hand on her shoulder and steered her down the hallway. He opened the door and nudged her in, where she found the oil lamp was already burning. There was a pitcher of steaming water waiting on the desk beside a bowl, a square of soap, and cloth.

"Sit."

That was not an invitation. Winry hesitated anyway until he put his hands on the back of the chair and pulled it out for her. He wasn't smiling. His face was drawn tight and serious, but there was something off. He tapped his hand against the chair, and all at once she saw this for what it really was. So Winry sat. She didn't resist as he drew her arm toward him to survey the bite mark he'd left.

"Hmh."

She winced as he cleaned the wound, but didn't pull away. His face stayed serious while he worked, his form of apology. The bite was deep — she could see where each tooth had punctured her skin. When he was done cleaning it, however, he didn't cover it with bandages. Instead he took a kerchief from his pocket and held it up.

"Watch," he whispered. Winry locked her eyes on it, feeling like she was waiting for a magic trick. Hisoka sighed and poked her head. "No. _Watch."_

Ah. He meant Gyo. So Winry focused her aura in her eyes and watched as he tossed the kerchief in the air.

It flew upward, then began to gently float down. She watched as he attached strands of bungee gum to each of its four corners, then realized that the bungee gum originated from her own arm. The cloth softly descended to land flush over her skin. How…odd. She could see his bungee gum, but couldn't feel it. Only the cloth.

Hisoka covered her arm with his palm, sliding his hand across the kerchief. Winry bolted upright out of her chair with a curse that made him chuckle throatily.

"Bungee gum is one of my Nen abilities — a Hatsu. This is my other." Winry touched her arm with trepidation, and found it to be smooth and unmarred, though it was still sore and tender to the touch. "This is texture surprise."

"How?"

"There are six aura types — enhancers, transmuters, emitters, conjurers, manipulators, and specialists."

 _"Conjuration is one of the six disciplines of Nen, wherein the user can manifest objects from their aura,"_ he had told her.

"Which are you?"

"I'm a transmuter. I can change my aura to mimic something else."

"Like the chewing gum, and…skin." He nodded, closing his eyes and smiling. "How do you decide what aura type to become?"

"You don't. Your aura type is predestined — but there is a simple test to determine it, when a Nen user is ready."

"When will I be?" Winry asked, despite herself. Her own inconsistency on the matter of Nen was unsettling, a constant cycle of hot and cold. She felt like she continued to stumbled forward into it despite swearing up and down she had no interest. It simply happened. Naturally.

Hisoka unceremoniously crossed to her window and unlocked it, then dumped the water he'd used to clean her wound out. He set the empty bowl on the desk again, and poured fresh water from the pitcher to fill it again.

He turned to her then with a smile on his face that made her frown. But he paid no mind to that, instead pushing his sleeves up to expose his forearms then making a show of displaying his empty hands.

"Nothing to see here," he whispered before touching the collar of her shirt.

"Hey!" Winry batted his hand away as his fingertips slipped a knuckle-length beneath the material, but when he drew his hand back a single green leaf came with it. She watched, lips parted, as he laid the leaf on the surface of the water.

"Now." He gestured at the bowl. "Put your hands on either side without touching then perform Ren. How the leaf reacts to you will tell us which aura type you are."

She cast a long, skeptical glance in his direction before putting her hands on either side of the bowl and focusing. Then she focused her Nen onto it.

The leaf floated briskly across the bowl, as though it were a ship with a propeller. Hisoka made a sound of satisfaction, and Winry looked up at him.

"You're a manipulator."

"You…You've said that before," she said, laying her hands palms down on the desk. "At Heavens Arena. You said then that you predicted I would be a manipulator. How?"

"Magicians never share their secrets."

"What happened to your water?" Winry asked. "What happens when a transmuter uses Ren for the test?"

Hisoka leaned past her to put his hands around the bowl, and she felt his Ren. Just a whisper of it. At first she wasn't sure why he was dampening it, then she realized if he did anything too aggressive it might wake Izumi by proxy. She waited, holding her breath, to see what would happen—

Nothing did.

Winry glanced up at him, raising a brow.

"Taste it."

She cautiously dipped her finger into the water, then touched it to her tongue. Her face immediately shriveled — lips pressing into a rosebud, forehead creasing, cheeks sucking in.

"Oh gosh, that's so sour."

"Tomorrow I will spend time with you before I work with Izumi, to discuss more about what a manipulator's abilities are," Hisoka said, lowering himself into a squat so that he was closer to her eye level. She sensed his silent demand for him to meet his gaze, but Winry averted her eyes to the window. She could see the pinkening of dawn beginning to creep across the world. "Unless you intend to return to Rush Valley tomorrow, in which case this will be my final farewell."

"I need your word," Winry whispered. He waited for her to continue. "What happened tonight…It can't happen again, Hisoka. You made decisions on my behalf that you had no right to make. You kept secrets from me. You frightened me. You hurt me." Winry swallowed hard, closing her eyes as a shudder ran down her spine, remembering his hand around her throat and feeling him against her back. "I need your word that this won't happen again."

"How foolish. You should know I cannot promise any of that, mink."

"I need—"

"I _will_ keep secrets from you. I will make decisions for you when I deem necessary, and I will undoubtedly frighten you — there is no question about that. But I assure you if I do it would be for your own good, whether you realize it or not. Now as for hurting you, you're very quick but you aren't worldly, so allow me to enlighten you."

Winry opened her mouth to argue, but Hisoka laid his palm across her lips, silencing her. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"I derive _pleasure_ when I am challenged by worthwhile opponents. So every time you strike me, it's as though you are taking my hand—" The fingers of his free hand laced between hers, and he tightened his grip until she gasped. "—and leading me to a place that I _don't_ enjoy leaving." Hisoka warned, "What _you need_ is to keep your hands to yourself. Perhaps your alchemist allows you to lay hands with no repercussions, but every time you push me it becomes harder and harder to bring myself back from that place because the idea of you struggling..." His eyes closed in bliss, and Winry bit her lip, looking away. "Be enraged with me, but the next time you raise your hands to me, Winry, I will take it as an invitation."

His hand left her mouth to slide down over her throat, then lower to touch the top of her sternum before falling away. Hisoka's amber eyes were sharp and bright, and his meaning was perfectly clear.

"So do you accept my terms and agree to stay?" Hisoka asked. "Or shall I say goodbye?"


	22. Coming Here

Winry was silent while she sat on the bench at the railway station.

The railway station in Dublith was almost identical to Resembool, but vastly different from the station in Central, which had seemed big enough to swallow her whole — until she had gone to Yorknew City, and found the world to be so much bigger that she'd ever dreamt it could be.

But that…that was long ago.

If remnants of Yorknew City hadn't followed her home, she may have thought it was a dream. What tracked her down back to her quiet life, however, could only be described as a nightmare to an outsider. She had never felt so brutalized as she had at Hisoka's hands, even though Winry later somberly reflected that perhaps he had been right, that she had been the person in the wrong every time she'd struck first. She still didn't believe it justified the severity he escalated things to from there — _there was a brief flash of being on the ground, hands pinned over her head while he was on all fours on top of her body_ — was an appropriate response either, though.

She and Hisoka had been two perfectly matched serial overreactors in that regard, at least.

Winry closed the book in her lap and leaned her head back. Her mind just seemed to wander too far for her to concentrate. She wondered what Hisoka was doing with Izumi at this moment.

Underneath her feet she felt the ground tremor. Immediately she glanced to the clock that hung on one of the beams of the ramada she sat beneath — it was still too early for the train. The ground shook again, stronger this time, and Winry hastily got to her feet, tucking her book beneath her arm, before jumping down from the platform and running across the tracks.

The far side of the tracks put Winry on the steep side of a cuesta. The drop-off at her feet made her pause — it was at least fifteen feet down. Her hesitation was brief; she focused on amplifying her aura, then leapt. She skidded down the steep embankment, fragments of rock and clouds of dust kicking up around her feet as she struggled to keep her balance, arms out and waving.

She managed to make it to the base upright, but had to pause again to catch her breath. The maneuver had taken more from her than she was used to. The ground beneath Winry's feet suddenly cracked and splintered. She dropped her hands and knees, scrambling to be on one side of the broadening crevice instead of halfway on both.

"I thought I told you to stay out of here!"

Winry blushed hotly at Izumi's reprimand, and beside her Hisoka was crouched on the ground, smirking at Winry.

"I could feel it all the way up on the platform. I thought I should warn you before you damage the tracks," Winry replied, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her nose up into the air ever so slightly.

"Did I interrupt your reading?" Hisoka drawled, and she rolled her eyes in answer.

Winry had never meant to stay in Dublith this long — almost a year had passed already. She found regular work doing automail maintenance, and made herself useful in Izumi's butcher shop, too. Her familiarity with anatomy had increased tenfold — at least with animals. The book beneath her arm was a text that specifically discussed the translation of animal anatomies to those of humans.

Her free time, however, belonged to Hisoka.

They had come to a truce after that incident so long ago, when she'd discovered he had terminated her apprenticeship. She had kept her word about keeping her hands to herself, and in return Hisoka spared her any further compromising situations.

Well. He had tried.

Izumi, Sig, and Hisoka all had unanimously agreed that she needed to learn some level of self-defense, and she'd reluctantly allowed Hisoka to take her on as his seito. The first eight months of learning from him had gone smoothly, until she'd really begun to get the gist of fighting.

Hisoka's defenses were almost impenetrable. She'd already known that from watching him fight Kastro, and she genuinely didn't expect to be able to land a blow on him. By sheer chance, or maybe dumb luck, Winry had managed to catch the magician off-guard and hit his solar plexus. He'd immediately stuck her to the ground, and followed her down to lay one of his playing cards against her throat. His eyes had been faraway and dreamy, tongue peeking out in the corner of his lips.

 _"Don't—"_ she had managed to gasp. _"Hisoka, you can't—"_

She hadn't practiced with him since — by his volition, not hers. Izumi and Sig had taken Hisoka's place, and that had been that. She didn't _fear_ Hisoka the way she had before, but she knew well enough not to take her safety for granted. A voice in the back of her head warned her it would only take a moment for his lever to flip. It was for the best if she studied with Izumi and Sig instead.

Winry had found her wings with Nen while Izumi still crawled; only a couple months ago she had performed the leaf test to learn she was an Emitter. The older woman was the only one who was struggling with her newfound science.

Alchemy came as easily to Hisoka as Nen did to Winry; it was like breathing. She wasn't sure why she'd been so surprised by it. After all, Hisoka's Nen type was a transmuter — it would only make sense that alchemic transmutation also come with ease.

Hisoka with alchemy _and_ Nen, however, was a terrifying combination. He didn't allowed her to be in his vicinity when he sparred against Izumi, but on the scattered occasions she'd been able to get close enough to glimpse him, what he'd wielded had been fearsome to behold.

"That's enough for today anyway," Izumi said, drawing Winry out of her thoughts. "Let's head back."

There was a telegram waiting on the table when they arrived back at the meat shop. Izumi had unfolded the top portion, then held it out to Winry at arms length.

"It's for you." Izumi sat down at the table and waited expectantly, while Hisoka had already vanished upstairs. Winry opened the paper and read the message quietly. "Well?"

"It's from my grandmother," Winry said, glancing up. "She said she received word that Ed is at Briggs, and his automail failed because of climate issues."

"Ugh." Izumi reclined back in her seat, putting her hands behind her head. "Those boys. There's always something. Is he asking for you to go fix it or is he coming here?"

"For me to go there," she said — with relief.

What would have happened if Ed had arrived here in Dublith and found her with Hisoka? She'd never told Ed about _everything_ that had transpired and _everyone_ she had met across the sea, and he'd be alarmed at minimum if he arrived at his mentor's house and found the magician here. Winry couldn't imagine Hisoka being bothered by Ed's presence, but Ed had a way of always finding a fight.

She wasn't sure if Ed would even be able to beat Hisoka and his Nen-alchemy abilities anyway.

"Are you going?" Izumi asked. "If you want to go you can, we won't stop you. Sig and I ran this shop just fine before you and it'll go just as smoothly after you leave."

"I…I don't think I am," Winry whispered.

This was just the latest example of Ed taking her for granted. It had been like this ever since he'd become a State Alchemist. He'd go months without speaking to her, then show up and expect her to clear her scheduled to do a rush order. Expecting her to go to Briggs, however, was a new low for Ed. He didn't generally expect her to go to him. All his State Alchemist status was clearly going to his head.

"You think he'll be alright?" Izumi asked.

"Yes." Winry folded the telegram in half and tucked it away in her clothes. "Briggs would definitely have their own mechanic. He's not the first person with automail going to Briggs, and he won't be the last. I doubt he really needs _me."_

# # #

"It's for the best that you go."

Winry's head jerked up with surprise at Izumi's words. She wasn't sure how Izumi had heard her walking through the hallway as she went to get a drink, but the damaged was done now. Her lips parted to respond, but then she heard Hisoka answer from inside the sitting room.

"Hmh. I have business to attend to elsewhere anyway," Hisoka said.

"Ed will eventually learn that Winry isn't in Rush Valley, and he'll want to know what she's doing here with me. The sooner I send her back to Rush Valley, the better. Ed never talked about Winry much, but his younger brother Alphonse did — Al made Ed's feelings about Winry clear. I'm not interested in anything happening here on account of it." Hisoka didn't respond. "How soon can you leave?"

"I can be gone before dawn."

"What about Winry?" Izumi asked.

"What about her?"

Winry bit her lip to silence the sound she was about to make at the pure indifference in Hisoka's voice. She wasn't foolish enough to think that they were friends, but he would be so calloused that he would leave without a word?

"She'll be furious if you don't tell her goodbye."

"She already knows," Hisoka drawled instead. "She's been eavesdropping in the hall."

Izumi made a surprise sound, and reluctantly Winry stepped into the sitting room then gave Izumi a small bow.

"I hadn't meant to listen," she admitted. "I was walking by and heard you talking…" Winry turned to Hisoka. "What 'business' are you leaving for?"

Izumi rose to her feet and waved a hand at them. "I'm going to bed. I don't want to know and make myself an accessory."

Winry sat down in the chair Izumi had abandoned.

"So where are you going?"

"I'm leaving to attend the 287th Hunter Exam," Hisoka said, and Winry blinked.

"They are allowing you back? Even after what happened last year?" she asked with surprise. She hadn't forgotten why Hisoka had told her he'd been failed the last time he had attempted it — that he had attempted to kill one of the Examiners.

"They are." Hisoka smiled, shutting his eyes. "Isn't that delightful?"

"I suppose. But you need to leave so soon?"

"Izumi is correct in her deduction regarding how your alchemist would react to your current situation. While I don't care, if she doesn't want to be involved in it then that's that."

Winry stood up, lacing her fingers together tightly in front of her and she bent at the waist, giving him a bow.

"Then that's that," she agreed, too angry to say anything else. "Thank you for your training, Hisoka Morow. I hope you have a safe journey back across the sea."

"You aren't coming?" Winry stared at him blankly. "I had assumed you would be following. You are a Nen user — you belong elsewhere now."

"I—I can't just leave. This is my home. My family is here, my friends are here, my work is here."

"You are a _Nen user,"_ Hisoka replied, as though that fact on its own was a sufficient argument against everything she'd said.

Winry's lower lip trembled. "I can't just leave Amestris. This is home."

He simply nodded then and waved his hand in dismissal. Winry gave another bow then ducked out of the room before she did or said something rash and hasty.

She didn't know when he left — he didn't come to say goodbye — but the following morning Izumi came to her room and told him that he had gone. And that someone else was downstairs for her.

She surprised herself at how immense and immediate her relief was that Hisoka _was_ gone. She should've known that Ed would come here to swap out his automail for something more appropriate — and Ed would have been hostile toward Hisoka, at minimum. It was for Ed's own safety that Hisoka should leave. Even Izumi had realized that.

Winry followed Izumi back downstairs to the sitting room, and her usually sardonic greeting for Ed died on her lips when she saw it wasn't Ed there after all.

"Ms. Rockbell?" a stranger asked. He was dressed in the bright cobalt uniform of the military. Winry nodded. "I am Second Lieutenant Bismuth. Your grandmother in Resembool said she would send a telegram informing you of what happened to the Fullmetal Alchemist's automail."

"She did," Winry admitted with a nod. "I assumed that there would be someone at Briggs who'd be able to handle that for him though?"

"There is, but the Fullmetal Alchemist was adamant than you are his personal mechanic and that you come perform the work yourself," Second Lieutenant Bismuth said. "So I've been sent here by Major Kimblee to escort you to Briggs."


	23. He Had Amber Eyes

Winry arrived at the train station in North City three days later with both Second Lieutenant Bismuth and her travel kit in tow. No gun. Bismuth advised her she wouldn't be permitted to have it within the fort, and that if she took it then it would only be confiscated. She wasn't comfortable with the idea of going unarmed, but she reminded herself that a fort — under the protection of the military — was probably the safest place for her to be. Besides, she had Nen, and she liked to think she had learned enough that she could defend herself against the average person.

She'd had to take an afternoon to shop for the trip after arriving in Central. She'd never been further than the capital, and was ill-prepared for the climate. She didn't even have a jacket that would be sufficient. She knew there would be snow, and a lot of it. She'd only seen snow once before when she was a child. That seemed so long ago now.

Bismuth held her elbow as she stepped down onto the snow-dusted platform. It was not yet late afternoon, and the snow piled on the roofs glittered silver and gold under the brilliance of the sun. Winry found herself pausing despite herself, then hastily following Bismuth when she realized he was ready to continue on. The soldier carried the bag containing her clothes over one shoulder. He'd refused to entertain the idea of her carrying it herself.

Winry was both elated about the trip, and fundamentally pissed off at Edward for making her go. She was excited for the opportunity to travel to the renown Fort Briggs, where Amestris' finest and strongest served. The idea of being in a snowy tundra was exciting and exotic. But to be beckoned there by Ed after he'd gone galavanting off to the north half-prepared with some of her finest automail infuriated her beyond belief. Suppose she had still been working at Atelier Garfiel — he presumed for her to leave behind her job and clients on a whim for him. The anger she felt now was comparable to what she'd felt when Hisoka had terminated her apprenticeship without her consent. The difference, however, was that she could actually lay into Ed for his transgression without worrying for her life.

"Major Kimblee, sir," Bismuth said abruptly, and stood at attention. Winry's feet stopped.

"Lieutenant," a man standing under the overhang of the station acknowledged.

If Bismuth hadn't spoken to him, Winry wouldn't have suspected the man of being military. His black hair was almost as long as hers, and two pieces framed his narrow face. He wore an overcoat and a fitted three piece suit that were as white and pristine as the untouched snow. A fedora was pulled low over his eyes. Otherwise, a violet tie was the only hint of color. At least until he raised his chin and his gaze met hers.

He had amber eyes, and high, arching brows. Major Kimblee's eyes were narrow and full of cunning, despite his smile. For a moment, she felt as though she were staring at Hisoka. Winry swallowed hard.

"Winry Rockbell," the man said, stepping forward. "I'm Major Zolf Kimblee." She offered him her hand to shake, but he bent and kissed her knuckle instead. She jerked at the unexpectedness of the gesture. "I'll be escorting you to Fort Briggs."

"I didn't realize I needed a Major to escort me," she jested, offering what she hoped was a polite smile as he took her travel kit from her and began walking. She followed. She didn't like having her tools and equipment in anyone's hands but her own, but she couldn't think of a kind way to refuse quickly enough.

"You're precious cargo, Ms. Rockbell. Fullmetal is a valuable addition to the military and we need him in top form. On behalf of the Fuhrer, thank you for coming on such short notice. And I apologize, there was a miscommunication with the telegram sent to you. You're here at the Fuhrer's request — it was realized that Fullmetal hadn't scheduled time to make adjustments prior to coming north, and someone sent it up the chain to summon you."

"It's nothing, really—"

"Far from it," Major Kimblee disagreed firmly. "And from what I understand, you actually had to come from Dublith instead of Rush Valley. That's quite a ways away."

Winry saw him glance at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes," she nodded. "I did."

"The last we knew, you'd been fulfilling an apprenticeship in Rush Valley." They reached a white car, and Second Lieutenant Bismuth opened the door for her. "At least according to the Elrics."

There was a brief reprieve as Bismuth put her bags into the back of the vehicle — before she lowered herself into the car and Major Kimblee followed her — where she had a moment to think of her excuse. She could tell by the Major's tone that he wanted an answer and would ask again if she was less than forthcoming with it.

But if they hadn't known she wasn't in Rush Valley then maybe they likewise didn't know about Hisoka, and that loosened a knot in her chest. She didn't know how to explain a man like Hisoka to a boy like Ed. Or even to a man like Kimblee.

"I've been doing repairs and adjustments in Dublith — there was a great need for a mechanic in the area, and it's only a train ride away from Rush Valley. If you could refrain from telling Ed and Al that though, I'd appreciate it. I don't want him to get the wrong idea, that I've given up on my apprenticeship."

"I see." Bismuth was seated behind the wheel now, and at Major Kimblee's gesture, the officer began driving. "That's very generous of you, Ms. Rockbell."

"Call me Winry, please. And I'm a fourth generation automail engineer and mechanic, I'm only fulfilling my family legacy."

"I'm familiar with the Rockbell family — and only if you will address me as just Zolf, or Kimblee."

"You know my family?" she asked in genuine surprise.

"Your parents lost their lives giving medical attention during the war."

It was a statement, not a question. Winry nodded. "That's right."

"Thought so." Kimblee bowed his head. "I was part of the squadron that recovered their bodies. We'd been dispatched to help them, but it was too late by the time we got there. I'm sorry."

"Thank you for trying," Winry said softly, staring at her gloved hands.

"You're just like them, I can see it already. They stayed true to their duty and helped the needy right up to the end. I respect their bravery. I wish that I could've had the chance to meet them." His head rose, and he looked at her with a kind, gentile smile as he put an empathetic hand on her knee. "Your parents were true heroes, and it's an honor to meet you."

* * *

Winry had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to put on the happy face that Ed was accustomed to, but as she waited outside the room for Kimblee's cue to surprise the brothers, she realized her concern was for naught. Her anger and annoyance were firmly planted in the backseat now that she knew they were in the other room. This was Ed, after all — even if he was locked up. Kimblee had told her it was a misunderstanding from Ed's arrival, and that didn't surprise her in the slightest. Ed had a certain way about him that just kept getting him in deeper and deeper.

_"I brought a visitor with me to see you."_

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost missed it. Winry padded into the room, feeling her face glow. There they were, Edward and Alphonse Elric, a State Alchemist and his wayward brother, locked up in a military fort. The irony wasn't lost on her. It was all she could do not to click her tongue and chide them.

 _"Winry!"_ Ed gasped, followed by Al's demand of, "Why did you come here?!"

"Why?" she repeated. Her nose wrinkled as that brief moment of excitement to see them melted away like snow in the southern sun. She came here to help them and they couldn't care less. "Why do you think? You have to adjust your automail for the north, don't you? And just what are you doing in that cell?"

"We didn't ask you to come here!"

"What's with you? I was worried about you, idiot. Someone from the military contacted me so I came—"

Ed suddenly looked stricken, and Winry withdrew away from him in frustration. Kimblee's hands fell on her shoulders to prevent further retreat. The contact steeled her, and she turned her nose upward, snubbing the pair.

"Don't be so hard on her, you two. The Fuhrer was concerned about you. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of."

A couple years ago, hearing that kind of condescending tone taken toward Ed and Al would have set her off. A lot had happened since then though, and she wouldn't lie — it was nice to have someone behind her who could put them both in their place. They were being unreasonable as ever. The military's request for her presence under the circumstances didn't seem suspect, but Ed's reaction was. It made her grit her teeth.

He was hiding something from her.

_Again._

"We have the infirmary ready for you, Winry," Kimblee said, patting her shoulder before letting go of her and stepping away. "I've been reassured you'll find it and the shop suitable for the adjustments you need to make to Fullmetal's automail."

"If you could have the Second Lieutenant show me the way, I'll meet Ed there when he's ready," she announced.

She attempted to mentally regroup to focus on the task at hand after she arrived in the infirmary. It would be more than sufficient for what she needed to do. Ed was escorted there — still shackled, to her amusement — and she made short work of taking the measurements she needed before sending him away again.

She'd kept the casts from the last time she'd made his automail in case she could reuse them. Ed wouldn't be happy to hear it, but only minor adjustments needed to be made to fit them to his current measurements. He was going to be short forever.

She changed into her overalls in her new barracks room before heading to the automail shop, where she set about building his new arm and leg. Having the previous casts made the process go significantly quicker, but she lost hours anyway as the time rolled by, until Kimblee cleared his throat behind her. Winry pushed her goggles up onto her forehead as she turned to face him.

"The soldier watching the shop is about to be relieved for the night," he said. "You might want to consider the same."

 _"They aren't going to wake up again — you might as well go to bed,"_ Hisoka had taunted when he'd found her downstairs in the butcher shop after Izumi and Sig had gone to bed for the night. He'd scared her so badly that the knife had slipped and she'd cut her hand. There was still a faint, silvery scar across her palm from the incident.

The feeling that she'd lived through this moment before was strong. It was odd to remember Hisoka now, here in this place that was so opposite of both Dublith, Yorknew City, and Heavens Arena. Hisoka wasn't an intrusion on her thoughts anymore — he was more of an unexpected guest. Kimblee struck the same chord.

"Please let me escort you back to your room for the night," Kimblee said.

Winry heard a warning go off in her head, but she dismissed it. They were at a military fort, and if anyone attempted to lay hands on her, someone would be nearby to interfere — assuming she couldn't handle it on her own with Nen. There was nothing for her to fear here at Fort Briggs.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"I hope you're giving Fullmetal his best work yet," Kimblee commented after she had tidied up the station she'd been working at. "The military is still after the Ishvalan murderer, and we need both Elrics in top form."

"Scar is still at large?" she asked as the soldier posted outside the shop locked the door behind her.

"He is, and he's retreated to the north. That's actually part of why I'm here — I was tracking him, and I actually cornered him on a train a few days ago."

"How did he get away?" she asked as they began walking.

"He wounded me," Kimblee said, and he sounded a bit ashamed of that fact. "I'm fine now. Scar is a strong opponent though. He was a warrior monk before the war, and now that he has learned to use alchemy to support his malicious intentions, it makes him formidable."

"He killed my parents."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I met him in Central once — when Colonel Hughes died. Ed and Al actually had him cornered. I pulled a gun on him. I told him who my parents were and he said I would be justified."

"So why didn't you?" Kimblee asked.

She hesitated then admitted, "If Ed hadn't been there, I might have."

"He would've deserved it."

Winry nodded. Even Scar had agreed he did, and she wasn't big enough of a person to argue against the killer's own confession.

"I was so disappointed that Ed and Al didn't get him then. Ed is so talented and brave, I thought for sure that it would be easy for him. But I think Ed wanted to catch Scar — if he'd been trying to kill him, then maybe Scar wouldn't have gotten away after all."

"Scar is wanted dead or alive. I'm sure the Fuhrer has questions he wants answered, but at this point I don't think anyone would bat an eye if the Ishvalan couldn't be taken in still breathing."

"May I be blunt?" Winry asked, glancing at Kimblee, and he nodded his reassurance. "I know you said you think Ed will be helping with hunting Scar, but I don't think he's the man for the job."

"Why's that?"

"I think Ed would rather die trying to take Scar alive rather than kill."

Kimblee's smile radiated confidence. "Scar is an enemy of the State — and Ed knows he's the person who killed your parents. He should have more motivation than anyone to kill Scar, except maybe you."

"I just don't think he'd do it, Major."

"Kimblee," he corrected swiftly. "And who knows. With the right motivation, I'm sure I can make him see reason."

They had reached the barracks room she'd been given for while she was here, and Winry stopped outside the door.

"What if he doesn't?" she asked.

Kimblee looked thoughtful, then leaned an arm against the wall before bending so his lips were near her ear.

"My standards do tend to differ from society's," he said in a confiding whisper. "I will make sure Scar is stopped — and I won't give the Elrics another opportunity to let him walk away."

Winry found herself smiling at Kimblee without meaning to, and he reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks, Kimblee," she said. "These two are lucky to have you watching out for them."


	24. Aligning the Connections

"You should have told me you were heading to the north," Winry murmured, brows furrowed together and her lips turned downward in a frown while she set about aligning the connections of Ed's new arm.

She'd made this one in record time, less than three days — without the all nighters. Having the last cast and needing to make minimal adjustments helped significantly, along with Briggs already having their own custom formula for automail to be more resistant to the cold. She didn't need to waste any time experimenting and conducting trials, she had been able to move straight into production. If Ed noticed how efficiently she'd been able to get his automail done this time, he didn't acknowledge it.

"I didn't have a chance. I was in a hurry, okay?" he huffed, lying on his back on the exam table in the infirmary once more.

She hadn't seen him in so long — not a single time since she'd left Central after pulling a gun on Scar. His features had matured, cheeks thinning and the shape of his jaw becoming more angular. He was turning into a striking young man, but to Winry he was still the same Edward Elric who couldn't be left alone to his own devices because he inevitably found trouble wherever he went.

"Yeah, and when are you guys ever not in a hurry," she said rhetorically. "Anyway, what did you do to get locked up?"

Ed didn't get the chance to answer; Kimblee spoke up from where he stood supervising the procedure from in front of the door.

"It's only a misunderstanding," Kimblee said coolly with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "I'll have them released within no time at all."

"Thanks a lot, Major Kimblee. These two are lucky to have you watching out for them."

She'd said those words already the night before, and she saw him begin to open his mouth to correct her — to tell her to just call him Kimblee — but he didn't. Not with an audience.

"It's nothing," he said instead.

Winry felt a tug on the wrench in her hand, and she turned her attention back to where Ed lay, looking up at her with golden eyes that were brimming with concern and apprehension. She resumed gradually tightening the bolts to prepared for the final connection, dropping her head close enough where she could hear his whisper.

"Listen," Ed breathed. "I wouldn't trust Kimblee if I were you."

"Why not?" she asked in a hushed tone, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder at Kimblee. "He seems nice."

"Do you have any idea what that psychopath did in Ishval?"

Ed hissed the words, then turned his face away from her. Winry's lips pursed — she didn't, and Ed knew that she wouldn't. It wasn't the most fair question for him to be asking her and he should know that. After years of him only telling her bits and pieces, vanishing then reappearing only when he needed her help, she had no patience for being baited. She grumbled as much under her breath, and Ed turned to her.

"Did you say something?"

"No, Ed," Winry exhaled tersely. "I didn't say anything."

She gave the connection bolt a hard twist. Ed howled in agony, spine arching off the examination table in pain while his feet flailed. Winry turned to set down her wrench, lips pressed together to hide her smug smile, and saw Kimblee wearing a half smile of his own. It was a smile she was accustomed to; one that Hisoka wore often. Private amusement.

"What the Hell, Winry! I told you to warn me before you connected this, alright!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now let's do your leg."

She finished connecting Ed's leg in silence, deliberately avoiding his gaze while she worked. Kimblee and his men remained standing in front of the door, watching quietly as she finished performing the procedure. Ed was asking her questions about the durability when someone knocked on the door, and Kimblee and his men moved aside so another man could join them. The man was almost twice as tall as Ed, and almost as muscular as Major Armstrong. His dark hair was cut in a mohawk that was braided down his back, and he had a Fu Manchu mustache. The soldier wore the cobalt blue pants of a soldier, with a white undershirt — Winry immediately spotted his automail arm. Her lips parted in awe, and her fingers curled.

"Hmph, finally upgrading for the cold, huh?" the man rumbled at Ed.

"Are you upgrading, too?" Ed asked.

Winry was turning to Ed to set him straight when the man gave a throaty, robust laugh. "There's nothing left for me to upgrade to!"

"It's the M19 Mad Bear lightweight combat model!" she gushed, spiriting across the room to the newcomer's side. His hand was extended to Ed and she surveyed the hands. "What kind of reinforcement is that on the claws? They're not—" She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, its rhythm disrupted completely. "—diamond-tipped, are they?"

The man's brows raised and eyes widened as he looked down at her for the first time, but he sounded pleased when he answered her. "Yeah. She's fully modified. It's a specially crafted model."

Winry pressed her palms to her cheeks as she whirled around.

"Edward! You want me to upgrade you to one of these?!" she asked excitedly. She specialized in custom pieces, but she wasn't going to diminish the beautiful piece of work that was the M1910 series of automail.

"Not my style," Ed said, cross his arms and turning away.

Winry's nose wrinkled and she rolled her eyes. Well. Maybe she could get Hisoka to agree to it. He had no issue spending money on things like terminating her apprenticeship — certainly she could sway him to this.

"Who's the girl?" the man asked, glaring at Ed. "She's too cute to be hanging around you."

Winry blushed hotly while looking over to Ed, who still had his arms folded over his chest. She waited, holding her breath, for what he would say. All the angst and frustration was paused entirely. She needed his answer. She needed to know what Ed would say in the face of another man eyeing her this way.

"She's my mechanic."

Her bow to her admirer was as mechanical as she apparently was. Winry blinked away her tears and tried not to let the hurt show, but she could feel the disappointment and embarrassment burning on her countenance. Worst of all, everyone in the room had their eyes on her — everyone except Ed, who had just made it abundantly clear where she stood. If Ed…felt something for her…then all this would feel worth it. Instead, she was nothing more than a personal on-call automail service to him.

The man with the Mad Bear automail pulled back and punched Ed, sending him stumbling back across the room.

"What'd you do that for!" Ed snapped.

"'Cause life isn't fair," he said before sulking back out through the door. Winry straightened, biting her lip, then forced herself to smile for her audience despite the sharp pain in her chest.

"Real life northern automail! That's the first I've seen," she commented to no one in particular.

"Oh yeah? You wanna come check out my work shed then?" another man invited.

"Please, please, I'd love to." Anything to get away from Ed right now—

"Hey—"

Winry swallowed hard, not ready to look Edward in the eyes. But she gave him one last chance. She turned to him and asked, "What's wrong?"

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he was actually going to say something that would put her back together.

"Try to keep on your toes and don't go off exploring," he warned instead. "Not on your own. It's not safe here, so be careful, alright?"

Winry's jaw clenched and she nodded.

"Okay, I will," she swore hollowly. Winry turned on her heel to face her fellow automailer again, and gave him a smile. "Alright. Let's see what you've got."


	25. The Sun and the Moon (Part II)

"I need to borrow Ms. Rockwell."

Winry and Neil — who, as it turned out, was one of the chief engineers at Briggs — both turned to look to Kimblee, caught entirely off-guard. They had been hovering together over the M1913-A, aka the Crocodile. The premise was simple; it was a jaw with a chainsaw. But they were in the middle of dismantling it and, when Winry turned to face Kimblee, she had grease up past her wrists.

Kimblee's head tilted to one side as he took in the sight of her. "What are you doing?"

"I was letting her take a closer look, sir," Neil said, snapping to attention.

"Any closer and she'll be inside it." Winry blushed. "I'd like you to take a look at something else, if you don't mind."

"Of course. What is it?" asked Neil.

"Not you, Flint. I'm talking to her," Kimblee said.

"Sure," Winry said with a nod, looking around for a grease rag to wipe her hands off on. Neil passed one to her and, after she'd wiped off the worst of it, he pointed her to a sink. There was a bottle of abrasive soap beside it for her to wash with. Kimblee came to stand beside her, leaning against the counter while she scrubbed the grease from the creases of her knuckles.

"It's a personal favor," he said quietly, "if you don't mind."

"What do you need?"

"My watch stopped working." Kimblee drew the watch in question from his pocket and held it up by its chain. She did a double-take at it, blinking.

"Ed has that watch—" Then realization dawned. "You're a State Alchemist?"

Deeper comprehension was only a moment further behind, with Ed's earlier statement about Kimblee on its heels. _Do you have any idea what that psychopath did in Ishval?_ She didn't — she'd been so young then, and wouldn't pretend to have any sort of understanding about what atrocities had accompanied war. But she knew that the State Alchemists sent to Ishval had been the ones to earn them the nickname of Dogs of the Military, and that the State's response to the uprising had been ruthless. Did she have any idea what Kimblee had done in Ishval? No. But she also realized she didn't really care.

"I'm the Crimson Lotus Alchemist," he said as she dried her hands, then gestured for her to follow him.

"Crimson Lotus?"

"I specialize in creating explosions." He held the curtain to the work shop aside for her to exit through ahead of him, followed by the door to the infirmary. Once they were in the hallway alone Kimblee turned his hands over so she could see the transmutation circles on his palms — a sun on one palm, and a moon on the other. Her footsteps faltered.

_Her nightmares were filled with the sun and the moon, the shadows and light reaching for each other. Then the night and light met in an eruption of flames._

"Everything alright?"

"Yes," Winry quickly reassured him.

She was far from okay — she could feel her pulse throbbing her skin. Suddenly she found herself wondering the impossible. Did Kimblee know Nen? Had he somehow been the one who had forced her nodes open? That had been well over a year ago, it simply wasn't feasible that he'd done it.

Was it?

"I dropped it on my way to Briggs and it stopped working. I can't go back to Central with it broken," Kimblee was continuing. "You struck me as someone capable of the delicate work it would take to fix it."

"I will definitely try," she answered as he opened the door to an empty meeting room.

Winry entered ahead of him and seated herself at the table. Kimblee leaned out the door and said something to someone, then a man with dark mutton chops entered carrying her tool kit. He set it down on the table.

"I hope you don't mind. I had a feeling you wouldn't back down from a challenge, so I had them fetch your tools ahead of time."

"That's fine."

Her mind wasn't there. Instead she was considering the countless reasons for why it couldn't have been Major Kimblee who had forced open her nodes. She'd been all the way in the Republic of Tentai then, and she hadn't even told Ed, Al, or even Garfiel details about what hotel she would've been staying at. There was no way Kimblee could have known in order to find her—

"Would you like something to drink?" Kimblee asked.

"Tea, please."

Kimblee turned to a soldier in the hallway behind him, who wore a pair of wraparound goggles and had a blonde handlebar mustache.

"Fetch tea for Ms. Rockwell."

"Right away, sir."

He stretched out his hand to her, his State Alchemist pocket watch dangling from his fingertips. Winry gingerly took it from him.

"How long have you been a State Alchemist?" Winry asked.

"You were just a child when I went on my first tour of duty to Ishval — as I said, I'd been part of the squadron that recovered your parents."

"And after that?"

She didn't miss how Kimblee's amber eyes sharpened. A curt wave of his hand sent Mutton Chops from the room, and Kimblee shut the door behind him. They were alone now.

"That's not something I usually talk about," he said bluntly.

"Ed made a comment about things you'd done during the war."

That wasn't a topic she actually cared to discuss, but Winry saw no other way to lead in and find out his whereabouts a year ago. Kimblee scoffed.

"Lots of people make comments about what I did during the war."

"So what did you do?"

Kimblee stepped close to her, removing the distance between them until he looked directly down into her eyes. The expression in his amber irises was a demand, but for what Winry wasn't sure.

"I'll tell you — if you agree to fix my watch, regardless of what you think of me afterward." She nodded her consent to the deal. "During the war things got a little…chaotic. I took out a lot of people who weren't on the kill list. _A lot."_

There it was — the unspoken demand. He wanted her reaction to the truth, and Winry didn't have it in her to recoil away in horror the way she might have once done. She thought of Scar, and what she would sacrifice to undo the damage he'd caused. The corner of Kimblee's lips turned ever so slightly upward; she'd given him the reaction he'd wanted, without even realizing she was doing it.

Acceptance.

"I went to prison. I was released a few months ago to help exterminate the issue of this Ishvalan," he continued. His voice dropped to a lower, quieter note. "When I find him, should I bring you a trophy?"

Before she could answer, there was a rapt on the door. Kimblee opened it — Handlebars was standing outside the room with a tea tray. They both stepped aside so that he could come in and set it down on the table beside her tool kit, then Kimblee turned to leave. The other soldier, Mutton Chops, joined Handlebars off to one side of the room. Winry reached out and touched Kimblee's wrist before she could think twice about what she was doing, and looked up at him with doe eyes.

"Yes."


	26. Human Weapon

It hadn't taken long for Winry to fix Kimblee's watch. The mainspring had been broken, and the balance staff seemed to be damaged as well. Handlebars had gone on an abbreviated yet successful search for the replacement parts, and before the two soldiers sitting with her knew it, the watch was fixed. She hadn't thought twice when they told her that Kimblee would be back shortly; he was in a meeting, but it wouldn't take long, then he would come back. What she hadn't expected upon his return, however, was for Ed to be at his side.

She could read the dread and rage on Ed's face like an open book, and it immediately put her on edge. He wouldn't meet her gaze, his eyes instead wandering everywhere but her.

"Done already?" Kimblee asked, and Winry crossed over to him to put his watch in his hand. Ed turned away. "That didn't take you long at all, I'm very impressed. If you wouldn't mind now though, Ed and I need to borrow you."

Winry had spent the time she'd been working on Kimblee's watch thinking about what he'd said — he'd been in prison until a few months ago. _If_ he wasn't lying then he wouldn't have been able to go anywhere, much less the Republic of Tentai. The next thing she wondered, however, was whether it could be done from afar. She had often pondered who could have done this to her without an answer, but now in Kimblee she had her first real lead — she refused to believe her dream from that night was mere coincidence. She found herself wishing Hisoka was here. He would know the answer.

Kimblee and Ed led her to the brig where Al was still shackled and confined. The soldiers there unlocked the door to the cell, and Winry glanced at Ed with suspicion as he touched the small of her back to guide her in as well. She abided, and he followed close behind.

"You'll want to sit down," Ed said solemnly.

She lowered herself onto the bench on the other side of the cell across from Al, and folded her hands in her lap. She didn't want to be here right now — she didn't want to be around Ed at all. What had happened earlier still stung, but whatever was happening, she had a feeling it couldn't wait for her to finish with being bitter. Kimblee leaned against the outside of the bars, listening.

"Winry…You were only brought to Briggs as a hostage," Ed whispered.

She sat up a little straighter, forehead creasing as she glanced between the two brothers with skepticism. "A what? What does he mean, Al? Are you joking?"

His face was grim. He wasn't.

"Listen — I've been ordered by the Fuhrer to fulfill my duties as a human weapon," he said slowly, still deliberately avoiding her gaze. "In other words, they're ordering me to help them commit mass murder."

He looked so stern. Winry finally reached out to him, putting her hand on his forearm. His gold eyes flickered up to her, but he didn't maintain the eye contact for long.

"Why don't you refuse?" she asked, his words still processing. Mass murder. Hostage. The dawn came to her then. "I see — that's why."

Ed and Al had already lost so much over the course of their lives. Their father, their mother, their bodies, their home. Even if Ed didn't care for her the same way she had for him, he would still try to protect her. And now she was a weakness being used as leverage against him.

"Just refuse," Winry said, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Winry!" Al gasped in horror. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying and I resent that you presume I don't understand the gravity of the situation," she snapped. "You have to decide between orders to kill people, and letting me die. So let me die."

"I can't do that," Ed growled.

"So you'd rather kill other people?"

"No! You aren't the only factor in this, Winry."

"Then enlighten me, Ed. What else is there to this that would make you consider doing this even when you take me out of the equation?"

"They offered me a Philosopher's Stone as payment."

"A Stone?" Al gasped. "But—"

"That's right. Kimblee has one," Ed said, and both of them looked to Kimblee simultaneously. The expression on Ed's face was hateful. Winry's was of awe.

"We can't, brother. The ingredients for the Stone—"

"I know, Al."

Silence fell over the group, and Winry's rage deepened. Kimblee had brought her here as leverage against Ed to force him to "fulfill his duties as a human weapon", but even when she'd told him to factor her out he still had an excuse to go through with it. She didn't weigh into the decision at all in the end. Now that he had the opportunity to finally secure a Philospher's Stone — exactly what Edward and Alphonse had spent years trying to obtain — she wasn't even a factor. If she didn't know better, she'd have suspected this was all a charade to reveal Ed's ultimate indifference to her.

 _"And who knows. With the right motivation, I'm sure I can make him see reason,"_ Kimblee had said. Kimblee had found Ed's motivation — and it had nothing to do with her.

Al's helmet lowered in resignation. "Go ahead and do what you want."

"I will," Ed snapped, before turning to Kimblee. "It's settled. I'm in, alright? But finding Scar is the first thing I want to do."

Winry's hands clenched into fists.

"Oh yeah?" Kimblee drawled. "Why's that?"

"Scar is the one who murdered Winry's parents, and they deserve vengeance."

How dare he. How could he dismiss her so easily only to turn around and use her as a justification to do what he already planned to anyway? She couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

"I see. Fine with me," Kimblee said.

Ed began to say something about Al, but she shouldered past them all, storming out of the cell. Tears made her vision bleary but she refused to let a single teardrop fall while Ed could still see her. Ahead, a pair of soldiers stepped into her path to block her way to the door.

"Let her go," Kimblee ordered, and they moved aside.

* * *

Winry lingered in front of the mirror. She had never been a woman to obsess over her reflection; her work held her interest, not her appearance. But now, staring at herself, she felt as though she didn't recognize herself anymore.

The laugh lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes didn't seem so deep anymore. Her face seemed thinner, her skin more sallow. She had changed into a long sleeve dress that hit a few inches above her knees, but it seemed to just hang on her frame. She'd splashed cool water on her face until her eyes were no longer red and puffy from crying, and now she pinched her cheeks to brighten them.

Winry put on a pair of flats and left her room. She wanted to talk to Ed…She wanted to sit beside him and find their way back to one another. The path they were heading down, however, seemed so dark and bleak. There wasn't a light in sight, even as she raised her hand and tapped her knuckles against the door in front of her. Kimblee's face appeared as it opened.

"I want to talk to you," Winry said.

"Isn't this a conversation you should have with Fullmetal?" Kimblee asked.

Winry shook her head. "No."

He stepped aside to allow her in, his fingers releasing the top button of his shirt as she joined him in his room. Winry closed the door behind them.


	27. His Own Design

"Hey! Make room for one more. Come on, Al, scoot over—"

Winry shoved herself and her toolkit into the backseat of the car, and Ed went careening into Al as she claimed a space for herself. Her toolkit went across the brothers' laps.

"What are you doing, Winry!" Ed managed to squeak.

Kimblee advanced on the car, putting a hand on the roof as he bent to look inside. His eyes raked down her once and Winry felt her cheeks warm. Besides that, however, neither gave further indication of the night they'd spent together. Nor the brand of pillow talk they'd shared afterward.

"I'm sorry, Winry," he said, "but you need to wait here at the fort. We aren't going for a picnic."

"And neither am I," she doubled down. "I just performed a complicated upgrade on his automail that I've never done before." That was a lie, but it was the lie she'd practiced with Kimblee. "What if there's a malfunction? It would tarnish the Rockbell name if I'm not there to fix it."

Ed took the bait.

"Do you even realize how obsessed with your job you are? You're a workaholic," he said with a roll of his eyes.

There was a knot in the pit of her stomach, but Winry forced herself forward. She'd made her bed and by God she would lie in it, and just pray she hadn't bet on the wrong horse. She was betraying Ed and themselves into deeper trouble if they didn't come to heel.

"And proud of it, too. This has been my family's business for four generation," she said, turning up her nose.

Kimblee rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh of annoyance as he pulled the brim of his fedora low; if Ed were to believe the ruse, he'd need to believe Kimblee hadn't wanted her to leave the fort.

"Very well then, you can join us," he said. "I guess I can allow you to."

Winry continued her bickering with Ed until Kimblee walked away from their car and the door was shut. As the car began to drive, Ed spoke to her in a low whisper, "This could turn out really badly for us."

She didn't know what to tell him. That this was a disaster of his own design? She had no reassurances to offer, so instead Winry lowered her eyes.

"Yeah."

Once they arrived at Baschool, Kimblee assigned two of his men and two men from Briggs to supervise Edward and Alphonse during the search. Winry was to stay with Kimblee. Ed didn't even notice — or at least point out — how little sense it made for her to have come along for the sake of his automail for the expedition, only to then be kept from him.

It didn't take long. They'd been in Baschool for maybe twenty minutes, with Winry nearby while the squads radioed in updates, when the news she and Kimblee had both expected came in. Ed and Al had somehow become separated from Kimblee's men. Kimblee gestured discreetly with one hand, and Winry began to distance herself from him and his squad before finally sitting down in the shadow of a building.

Even if Ed hadn't felt the way she had, Winry knew the first thing he would try to do would be get her out from Kimblee's grasp. Her presence handicapped their decision-making abilities because they wouldn't do anything to compromise her safety. It didn't take long for Ed's automail finger to gently tap her shoulder from behind.

Winry rose to her feet and followed him further back into the alley where Al was waiting. Ed had unfastened Al's chest plate and gestured for her to climb inside his suit of armor. The prospect was less than exciting. Winry abided and, once Ed and Al began retreating so that the sound of their footsteps in the snow covered any noise she might make, she had taken her own radio out from her coat and snapped her fingers three times.

Kimblee would know now that they'd taken the bait.

She hadn't expected to be toted around Baschool inside Al's armor, and it was one of the less pleasant experiences she'd had. She was shorter than Al's suit, and pinched her more times than she cared to admit. She had to keep a constant focus on her Ten to minimize the amount of pain she had to endure.

They were looking for a girl named May, who apparently was traveling in Scar's company. If they found Scar, she might have a second chance and her missed opportunity in Central would be of no consequence. Did she have it in her to kill Scar now? She liked to think so. Ed had apparently overcome his scruples about killing if it meant getting the Philosopher's Stone, but her motives were far less selfish. It wouldn't be an act of merely avenging her parents — she would be saving lives.

"It'd make things a hell of a lot easier if Scar and that girl just came to us," she heard Ed lament.

Winry hardly had a chance to breathe before she was jostled violently inside the suit of armor, flung backward as Al slammed on the floor. She let out a yelp of pain as she landed hard on her back. The radio she was holding went flying someplace in the suit of armor — _Shit._ Al righted himself, getting back to his feet, and the radio was gone. She couldn't find it anywhere in her reach. Finally she banged her fist on his chest plate.

"Let me out, Al!"

"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" he said, unfastening it so she could tumbled out onto the floor.

"I kept bumping my head," she lamented, kneeling on the ground so she could get her bearings.

There was a young, dark-haired girl — certainly no older than ten — standing in the room with them. A small animal Winry had never seen before was perched on her shoulders. This was May? For some reason Winry had expected May to be an Ishvalan, like Scar. Instead she looked like a native of Xing. There was more commotion as Winry got to her feet, then an old, disfigured man entered the room followed by another man.

"The Elric Brothers are here!"

Ed and Al didn't seem to recognize the disfigured man until he introduced himself as Dr. Marcoh. It was another man who Kimblee had said they were looking for. The other man claimed his name was Yoki from Youswell — another mining town. She tuned them all out for a moment while they became reacquainted, trying to listen to Al as he shuffled uncomfortably in May's presence. That radio was in there somewhere, and the sooner she found it the sooner she could let Kimblee know what was happening.

It didn't take long for the group to settle themselves, pulling crates into a circle in the center of the room. How could they be so calm and social knowing Scar was around? Winry seated herself beside Al and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to mask her anxiety.

"I've learned a lot since we met — like what it takes to create a Philosopher's stone. I know there's something wrong with this country, and there's something rotten with its alchemy," Ed announced, though he seemed to be speaking most directly to Marcoh.

Winry couldn't look at him — he brought everyone else into his inner circle, telling so many others about what his work entailed, but continued to choose to keep her in the dark. She'd barely be able to decipher their conversation even if she wanted to. Even if her life depended on it.

"I decided to look into the possibilities of Xingese alkahestry and we figured she could help."

"You're on the right path. But you aren't the first person to put all of these pieces together," Marcoh agreed. He drew out a hand-bound notebook that had seen much better days. "This book is a collection of his research and theories. It's written in code but we believe that this book contains all the answers we need."

Then this book is exactly what Kimblee needed, too.

"If we can decipher what's in there then Al and I can—"

"Perhaps. I believe so. But they'll be impossible to translate without the assistance of Scar."

"What do we need him for?" Ed shouted.

Winry turned her head away, lips pursed tightly together as the obvious went over Ed's short head. That complicated things then — Scar would need to be taken alive, if this book was as valuable as Dr. Marcoh and Ed believed it to be. She wasn't even sure Scar would ever allow himself to be captured as long as he was still breathing, and if Kimblee didn't know about this book — and the necessity of Scar — then she had to find a way to tell him.

The sound of an explosion made them all turn toward the shattered window, but Marcoh reached it first.

"That's the building Scar was in. You think it's the military?"

"Look, all you just need to stay put and hide out in here. Al and I will find out what's going on."

Winry rose to her feet, staring after them as they turned their backs to leave — racing off into danger yet again, and taking her radio with them. Her eyes narrowed. She'd just have to follow them.

"I need to go with Ed," she announced after Ed and Al left the room, "if something were to happen to his automail he'd need me."

Neither May nor Marcoh protested, and Winry followed the echoing of Ed and Al's footsteps out of the building. The snow was pressed down where they had stepped, leaving behind a clear trail of which direction they had gone — but they were already out of sight. She chased after them as fast as she could, her breath frosting in the air in front of her.

"Winry Rockbell, freeze!" a commanding voice yelled.

She stopped so suddenly in surprise that her feet went out from beneath her in the wet snow, and she landed hard. Winry looked around to see who'd called her, silently hoping it was Kimblee or one of his men, but instead it was one of the Briggs soldiers — Miles. Two more came up behind him.

"We've been looking for you," Miles announced as he came within arms length. "And the Elric brothers. Do you know where they've gone?"

This was probably her best opportunity to get word to Kimblee about what was happening. Kimblee didn't trust the Briggs soldiers, but this was information she was almost sure they would convey.

"Ed and Al found Dr. Marcoh and a Xiangese girl in a building back there — they have a book about alkahestry that they need Scar to translate, so you can't kill Scar," she blurted out. "Marcoh knew Scar's whereabouts, but there was an explosion in the building Scar was in. Ed and Al went to see what happened."

"Which way?" Miles demanded. Winry pointed at the footsteps in the snow, and in return Miles gestured in the direction he and the soldiers had come from. "Straight ahead about two hundred yards, then left when you reach an abandoned bakery. That will take you back to Kimblee."

"No — Scar has already shown he's not willing to kill me unless he's given a reason. You have to take me with you."

"And what? Use you as a shield?"

"Yes."

Winry stood her ground. Part of her would rather go back to Kimblee's side and wait for the fire to die down, but she wasn't willing to leave Scar's fate to chance. Fine, they might need Scar alive now, but when they were done…maybe Kimblee would let her have her shot. And Hisoka, Izumi, and Sig hadn't gone easy on her in training. She was even less afraid of Scar than she had been the first time around.

She didn't give Miles more of a chance to refuse, ducking her head as she followed the footsteps. There was a moment of hesitation on their part where Winry knew they were debating what to do before they quickly caught up, flanking her. Miles was radioing back in to Kimblee — exactly as she'd hoped.

They tracked Ed and Al's footsteps to another building, and Miles put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back while the two Briggs soldiers entered first, weapons drawn. Winry could feel the building trembling — overhead, on a floor high above them, came the distinct sounds of fighting.

"You'll let me do what I need to when we get up there," Winry said to Miles.

"If it'll let us take Scar alive," he conceded.

Then she and Miles followed the other soldiers in.


	28. Dust and Splinters

Winry let Miles and his soldiers lead the way up the creaking stairs, her fingers digging into the bannister as the steps under her feet trembled with every blow above them. Dust and splinters rained down on their heads, and Winry put a hand up to keep the debris from getting in her eyes.

They reached a landing where the sound of fighting was more pronounced. Winry nimbly stepped around the Briggs soldiers, throwing her arm outward to keep them behind her as she advanced cautiously down the hall to an open door at the far end.

"You offer your arm to me?" she heard Scar saying, and the sound of his voice made her skin crawl. "Then I'll take it!"

No! Not her automail! Winry's steps quickened, her breathing shallow.

"I hate to tell you, but my arm isn't steel anymore! Don't make this difficult!"

The floor quaked underfoot as Winry reached the doorway, and she saw everything at once. Scar launching himself at Ed, his hands outstretched.

"Don't hurt them!"

Winry flung herself between the two, arms crossed and projecting her Ren at Scar as with all the force and malice she could muster. Scar's eyes found her immediately and the form of his attack faltered under her wrath, careening himself away from her. Ed and Al didn't miss the opportunity, landing a kick on Scar's chest that sent him careening back against a protruding, jagged piece of floor. Al pressed his hands against the stone floor, and his alchemy made the stone wrap itself around Scar's arm.

"What are you doing here, you idiot!" Ed shouted at her as he turned on her, his eyes gleaming with rage.

Winry's hand clenched into a fist, eyes narrowing, but Miles' hand fell on her shoulder as she began to advance.

"That's close enough."

"You brought her here, Major?" Ed asked incredulously.

Miles put his other hand on her other shoulder, and swiftly turned her around and steered her away before she could say another word. Not quickly enough to prevent her from seeing the bizarre creatures lying on the floor, unconscious. What were those?! Winry wrenched her head around to keep her eyes on Scar instead — his free arm was wounded. She could help him if she wanted to.

"Young girl," she heard Scar call from behind her. "You have every right to pass judgement on me."

Her footsteps paused, but then she let Miles remove her from the room without further protest.

She would get her chance soon. Kimblee would make sure of it.

"I still want to beat you blood and drag you down to the Rockbell family grave to pay your respects," Ed snarled.

"Copy — Major Miles here. We captured Scar. We're holding him in Area D. Inform Kimblee," she heard Miles saying. Then, to Scar, "Whatever the circumstances are between us, I cannot let you go. You must accept judgment."

Suddenly Dr. Marcoh and May came around the corner. Winry's eyes widened as she saw them, but she didn't try to stop them as they passed by to join the others in the room with Scar — and began explaining what she'd already told Miles about how Scar was needed. Winry let her gaze wander to a shattered window nearby. The sky was darkening as the afternoon grew late, and the air itself was growing strained. She wasn't familiar with northern weather, but she'd be a fool to think it looked like it was going to do anything except snow.

"Alright. I think it might be best if we took you back to Fort Briggs to hide you from senior military staff," she heard Miles saying.

"Hold on, what are you saying? You mean we're bringing that monster with us?" Ed snapped. "Just hand him over to Kimblee!"

On that she and Ed agreed upon at least.

"I heard they're using the Rockbell girl as a hostage against you," Miles added.

Winry showed herself back into the room then, arms crossed over her chest. She hadn't proven to be much of a hostage; Ed hadn't made his decision to cooperate with Kimblee based on threats against her, he'd made it for the sake of the Philosopher's Stone.

"If we act now we can disgrace Kimblee and find someplace to hide her where they can't touch her."

Her head snapped around to Miles, her mouth already opening to tell her that she had no intentions of consenting to anything to do with that plan, but a Briggs soldier she hadn't realized was behind her suddenly covered her nose and mouth with a cloth. Winry gasped, but only succeeded in inhaling more of the fumes. Her knees went out from under her and the last thing she saw was Ed reaching out—


	29. To Bind Him Here

It was cold. So cold, and windy. Winry shivered as the fog gradually cleared from her head, leaving her vulnerable. She lifted her head ever so slightly, then sucked in breath of air so cold it hurt to breathe, and she began coughing.

She was staring down at the ground from six stories up, and Winry tried to fling herself away from the ledge. A strong arm around her small waist tightened. She fought the unexpected vertigo to look upward, and she let out a shrill cry of surprise and terror — it was Scar who was holding her.

"Don't move," he warned gruffly, "or I'll drop you."

Her fingers dug into him, desperate for purchase. Far below she could see Kimblee and his men in the street, with Ed and Al alongside them. She didn't know what could've happened for her to end up in this position, but she'd never been more genuinely fearful for her safety. Scar had his scruples about killing her, but that could've easily changed. Thick flakes of snow swirled around them in a violent dervish.

Scar bent, and she dug her nails into him through her gloves, trying to balance herself with her legs as he pressed his free hand against the roof they stood on. It was like lightning erupted through the building. Winry watched as the concrete splintered and cracked, crumbling in chunks — dangerously close to hitting the soldiers below.

 _"This is all your fault, Kimblee! You were supposed to be watching Winry!"_ she heard Ed's voice echo up.

Scar stepped away from the edge as it crumbled beneath his feet. He retreated back into the building, descending the stairs effortlessly, as though he wasn't hefting a full grown woman along with him.

"Let me _go!"_ she demanded.

"No. Major Miles — Briggs's part-Ishvalan soldier — has entrusted you to me, to take you to Briggs."

"No! Let me go!"

Scar hauled her down flight after flight, before throwing ajar a set of doors that opened into an underground tunnel. He set her on her feet then, but took a handful of the back of her coat to keep her close. Dr. Marcoh, May, Yoki, and two of the soldiers she recognized as Kimblee's were there waiting for them. When she saw the soldiers, her struggling subsided. Kimblee's soldiers were escorting them to Briggs.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, turning as best she could to look at Scar.

"All you need to know is we are going to Briggs. All of us."

Winry was sullen and silent then as Scar gestured down the tunnel. She saw now that there were tracks, almost like for a train — then she realized that they were in the mines.

"A snowstorm has hit Baschool," Dr. Marcoh explained. "This is the safest and quickest way to Briggs under the circumstances."

She wanted to ask what would happen once they reached the fort — whether Scar would be arrested, what Ed and Al were going to do next since they'd fulfilled their mission to capture Scar _(sort of)_ , and more questions that she ultimately quashed. Instead she let Yoki and Dr. Marcoh lead the way.

"So it's true then? You're actually the daughter of the Doctors Rockbell?" Marcoh asked after they'd crossed what Winry could only hope were a couple miles.

"Yes. Did you know my parents, Doctor Marcoh?"

He smile. His face disfigured horribly when he did, but she saw the light in his eye that carried its own brand of becoming.

"Of course I did. There isn't a single doctor who worked in Ishval who didn't know your parents' names. They did their duty without any regard to themselves."

She lowered her head. Her parents had always been such a beacon throughout her life, even after they were gone. More and more lately she had felt herself tiring of the expectations placed on her by virtue of her name. And today, somehow, the weight of their legacy weighed more heavily. She could have helped Scar, but she didn't — she chose not to.

He could have been on fire and, if she'd had a glass of water, she'd have drunk it.

Yoki eventually led them to a staff room where he found a map of the tunnels, and she tuned them out to pay attention to Scar as he positioned himself to stand beside her.

"You did something," he murmured, looking at her from the corner of his narrowed eyes. The smooth, silvery skin of his scar gleamed in the dim light of their lanterns. "When you found me fighting the Fullmetal Alchemist, you did something. It was dark, and made my skin crawl. I thought I would be sick. What did you do? What was that terrible thing? Are you an alchemist now, too?"

Winry made herself look up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

On the inside, however, she was pleased. What she would've given for Hisoka to witness this moment. She could just imagine his smile.

Yoki led them through the mines until they reached an exit. She'd reached to take out her earrings then — she was liable to get frostbite if she left them in — only to discover they were already gone. When had that been done? She couldn't remember. She wondered who had her jewelry as they trudged through the snow, deep past her knees, until a gleaming on the horizon caught her eye.

 _"Help!"_ a familiar, though distant, voice called. "Hey! Is someone there? Somebody help me, please!"

Winry turned in its direction, and she touched Dr. Marcoh's arm when she spotted the shine of silver in the distance once more.

"That's Al!" she called over her shoulder, already trampling through the snow in his direction.

The snow came up above her knees though, and Winry fell into it as she struggled to reach him. Kimblee's soldiers overtook her; Jerso pulled her back to her feet while Zampano went ahead to reach Al first.

"Hold on, we'll get you out of there!"

Scar and May reached him then, too, and they dug into the snow. Even through her gloves, the absolute iciness of Al's steel hurt her fingers to touch as they pulled him up. They made short work of pulling the weight of his armor free.

"You saved me! I got stuck in the snow, and then a blizzard buried me!"

"What are you doing out here, Al?"

"I crossed the mountain to warn you guys."

"You crossed over in the middle of that snowstorm? Why would you even risk that?" Dr. Marcoh asked.

"It was the only way to warn you."

"Warn us?" Winry asked. "About what?"

"Briggs has been taken over by troops from Central. General Armstrong is gone, they summoned her to Central headquarters. You'll be walking right into their hands if you go there."

It seemed as though she were missing a vital piece of the puzzle — something that had been discussed while she'd been unconscious. She resented her lack of understanding, and having been kept intentionally out of something. Fort Briggs was Central's anyway — all the soldiers there were under the State, lead by Fuhrer Bradley in Central.

_"Someone has entered the radius of my En. They are not a Nen user, but there is something…unusual about them that I cannot place. Be careful of this one. Something is wrong with it,"_ Hisoka had said before Fuhrer Bradley had entered the room. 

What was Ed keeping from her?

"Well, then what are we supposed to do? We can't just hide in the mines," Jerso said.

"I don't know," Al said. "We'll have to find someplace else."

Scar had left them to stand on the highest point of the embankment, gazing at their surroundings stoically. She realized before the others what he was doing.

"Just follow me," Scar rumbled.

"Where are you taking us?" Dr. Marcoh asked.

"There's a mountain village called Asbeck nearby. It shouldn't take us long to get there. I've been told that some of my people have taken refuge in the slums there."

That's where she'd leave them then. There would be a road that would lead from Asbeck back to North City, and she could take the train back home from there. She wanted no more part of this — Ed and Al were going to have her marked as a conspirator in whatever they had gotten themselves into now.

"Are you sure about this, Al?" she asked, turning to Al, but he had stopped in his steps. "Al?"

She gasped, barely avoiding being pinned beneath him as he collapsed face-forward into the snow without warning.

"Al? What's wrong? Al!"

"Alphonse!" May cried out.

"Oh no," he murmured. "I'm being pulled back again—"

"Pulled back? What do you mean, Al?" she demanded, struggling to maneuver his armor to look into his helm. The orbs — his eyes — floating in the darkness inside were fading.

"My body — it's pulling my soul—"

"Do you know if anything like this has happened before, Winry?" Dr. Marcoh asked.

"I don't know! Al? Please wake up! What do we do?" Her head snapped from side to side, looking to Scar and Dr. Marcoh — the only alchemists in their group — in desperation. "What do we do!"

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do," Dr. Marcoh wheezed as he knelt in the snow beside Al.

He lifted Al's helm to look inside, and Winry and Scar looked with him. The blood seal inside was still intact.

"Do something!" May shrieked.

Winry pressed her palms against her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. She could barely breath from how hard she was trembling, but she made her body move anyway.

"Ed!" she cried out, wishing he could hear — wondering where he was. What he was doing right now that had left Al so vulnerable. Then she gathered her nerves and brushed Marcoh's hands away. She returned Al's helm to where it belonged. She could feel Scar watching.

That didn't matter now. She had to try.

Winry pressed her hands against his breastplate, closing her eyes. She could feel him fading — she held onto that feeling. He wasn't in a human body, but he was human. It wasn't a physical wound he bore, but there was a wound still.

_"It's your hands…They weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life."_

_"You're a manipulator."_

She let out a cry as she focused her Nen — into Al. To mend what was broken. To seal what was ruptured.

To bind him here.


	30. The Same Coin (Part II)

Winry wasn't sure if this place had been someone's home, or maybe a store, but that didn't matter now. It had four walls to keep the wind at bay for a night while they continued on their way to Asbeck. Marcoh and Scar had found paper to use as kindling, and Scar had worked with Jerso and Zampano to pull some boards from an upstairs room to use to make a fire to stay warm.

She had seated herself alone near where they had laid out Al, in pieces. She'd considered reassembling him, but the fact of the matter was simply that if the morning came and he hadn't come back yet…then they would need to carry him in pieces again anyway. No one had suggested leaving him behind.

Scar left the fire to squat beside her.

"Will it work?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Tell me. What was it? That wasn't alchemy, or alkahestry, though someone unfamiliar with it would've thought the latter."

She knew Scar wouldn't leave this until she answered, and it was better if she did it when Ed and Al weren't here to hear.

"It's not from this country. I learned it overseas," she admitted, "though I'm still a novice."

"What is it?"

"I don't really know myself."

"What you tried to do for Al was pure. But when you blocked me from attacking Fullmetal, you did something then, too, that was full of rage. Was that part of it?"

Winry nodded, searching for a way to explain before settling for only, "Yes. They're two sides of the same coin."

"Where—Where am I?"

Winry's head snapped to look at Al's helmet, the tightness in her chest releasing and she leaned forward to look into the eyes of the helm for confirmation. Two red orbs stared out at her.

"Al! Thank goodness you're okay! I was so scared you might not wake up, I didn't know what to do!" she sobbed.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out like that." He sounded ashamed, and she scooped his helm into her arms, squeezing tightly. She wondered if he could feel it at all — but, regardless, she could. She needed the contact. "So where are we? And why am I in pieces?"

"You were too heavy to carry whole, so we had to dismantle you," Scar explained.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" Dr. Marcoh asked.

"Just once when I was trying to find you guys. But this time felt so much worse. I was so much closer to being gone — I don't know what happened, but something pulled me back, even though the pull of my body was so strong."

All eyes turned to Winry, but no one spoke of it.

"Well, then I can't imagine it's very comfortable being scattered about like that. Why don't we start putting you back together?" Dr. Marcoh finally suggested.

"Please, if you don't mind."

"Can you hold onto this while we fix him?" Dr. Marcoh said as he handed the book of notes to May.

Winry set about getting Al put back to sorts, and it barely registered on her radar as Dr. Marcoh and Scar abandoned helping her to instead look at the pages of the book Scar needed to translate. She continued putting Al together while they laid the papers out meticulously, and she almost had him fixed by the time Al told them they needed to turn the pages around.

She didn't give a damn about their alchemic mysteries. She wanted to get to Asbeck and go home from there — there was nothing for her here. She couldn't do alchemy or alkahestry, and if she wasn't able to have her shot at Scar then she was only wasting her time in this frozen tundra.

Her spine went ramrod straight as she realized that when she'd thought of home, she'd thought of Izumi's. Then remembered Hisoka wasn't there now anyway. He'd gone back across the sea and she knew in her gut that he would never return to Amestris again.

Did she have it in her to go back to her life at Rush Valley and pretend the past year never happened? It's what she'd lamented wanting to do for so long — what she'd raged on Hisoka for trying to take from her — and now that the possibility was on her doorstep she wasn't sure that she had it in her to do it.

They left their shelter at dawn and, while it had taken most of the day to walk, they reached Asbeck before the last light had died from the sky. One of the villagers agreed to take her to the next village down, where someone with a car would be able to drive her to the station in North City.

She interrupted a conversation between the others — they were talking about going after something called a homunculus with May's alkahestry — to say her goodbyes. She hugged Al and Dr. Marcoh, and put her hand on the top of May's head. Scar had met her gaze, and Winry swore to herself that next time — if she ever had the opportunity again — she wouldn't let Scar walk away alive.

He took a step back from her, brows furrowing as his eyes narrowed into slits. Winry inhaled deeply, realizing she'd been trickling Ren at him. Bloodlust. She didn't tap it off, instead raising her chin in defiance.

Let him know who would kill him.


	31. Stop Him

It looked like an automail bomb had went off when Winry walked into her grandmother's house. There were pieces of forearms and wrist joints strewn across a workbench with a cacophony of tools. Nothing had changed here since Winry had first left Resembool for Rush Valley. This was how her grandmother had always worked, and it was a warm memory that sat in stark contrast to the orderliness that was Atelier Garfiel.

She'd almost gone back to Izumi, but she knew that didn't make sense. Izumi wasn't teaching her alchemy. So then she'd almost gone back to Rush Valley, but the thought of facing Garfiel and having that talk — about resuming her apprenticeship after it'd be bought out by Hisoka — had felt too soon.

So she'd come back to the deepest part of her roots.

The scent of mineral oil and metal was familiar and soothing. Everything about this place resonated the comfort she'd been seeking out.

_"You aren't coming? I had assumed you would be following. You are a Nen user — you belong elsewhere now."_

_"I—I can't just leave. This is my home. My family is here, my friends are here, my work is here."_

_"You are a Nen user."_

_"I can't just leave Amestris. This is home."_

That conversation with Hisoka felt like forever ago, even though it had been only a couple weeks. Standing in this place now, however, she knew in her heart she'd spoken the truth. _This_ is home.

Winry ascended the stairs to her room, careful to avoid the stairs that creaked — only to discover new places to avoid that had developed during her long absence. The world had moved on without a hitch without her here. Just as it would move on for Ed and Al, wherever they were. Al had mentioned going to Liore — she'd wished him the best, and asked him to tell that much to Ed as well when he reunited with his brother again.

The world had moved on without her here. And her world would move on without Ed.

She went to her room without bothering to wake her grandmother. There was no reason to do that, not when in a few hours her grandmother would awaken anyway. For now though she only wanted to change out of her travel-soiled clothes and wash. Her fingers were on the hem of her shirt to lift it up when—

"Ed!" she practically shrieked, yanking her shirt back down.

He sat at her desk eating, gaping openly at her. Winry grabbed a wrench from beside him on the desk and smacked him upside the head with it.

"Hey!"

 _Woo!_ That felt good. She'd walked around on pins and needles with Hisoka for so long that she'd forgotten what it felt like to give no quarter. Her heart was racing at the sight of him anyway, and she wanted to hug him tight.

"Ed, you wanna tell me what's going on here? Tell me why you're in my room!"

"I just wanted someplace quiet to eat my sandwich!" he balked, and she glared at him sullenly, forehead creasing.

Then her anger ran suddenly dry.

"I was worried about you," she admitted. Hating that she had worried. Hating that she'd felt such a festering wound from his indifference at Briggs while he'd continued on. Hating that there were so many things she had no answer to, that she knew he would never share.

"I was worried about you, too. I thought Al was with you?"

She shook her head.

"Well, technically I'm a fugitive right now," he said, turning his back on her as his hands balling into fists. "I can't risk anyone seeing me. But I'm in serious need of maintenance and I need to be in peak condition."

A fugitive? What had he done _now?!_

"Winry?" she heard. She looked past Ed to see her grandmother in the doorway. "Welcome home."

"Hey granny. I hope you weren't worried. I missed you."

Her grandmother's eyes moved to Ed, then back to her.

"I wasn't comfortable tinkering with your work anyway. Head on downstairs and get to it."

Winry felt her cheeks darken and warm, and her grandmother gave her what she could only regard as a playful smile before walking away. Except her face was red for an entirely different reason than her grandmother presumed.

Here they were. Again. With Ed treating her as his personal on-call automail mechanic and little else. Meanwhile she'd gone weak in the knees at the sight of him, despite all that. She seethed in silence. She hated that she couldn't find it in herself to give a voice to her hurt and anger, but she felt like it might her hurt even more if she did.

So instead she went downstairs to the workshop with him. He knew the routine, and laid himself down on the exam table while she gathered the tools she'd need. She realized, fuming even deeper, that her bag of tools that she'd taken north was probably lost forever in Baschool.

They didn't speak as she worked. It was hours later, as she cleaned up, that Ed finally spoke up.

"Listen," he said softly. She almost didn't hear him over the gentle clanking of her tools against each other.

"What is it?"

"I want you to take Granny and Den, and leave the country for awhile."

Winry whirled around on him, leveling her wrench on him again. He managed to cover his head with his automail arm this time, though — he'd expected her reaction. How dare he? How _dare he_ come to her home, expecting her to drop everything to help him yet again after what she'd been dragged into at Briggs, then tell her she needs to leave?

"I'm not running away! You can't just send us off like that!"

"Catastrophe is coming to Amestris! I'm going to do everything I can to stop it, but there's a chance it might not work!" Ed shouted back as he leapt off her table.

"What won't work?" she yelled, slamming her wrench down on the table beside her. "You keep acting like you're trying to protect me but you won't ever tell me what from, Ed! All I ever know is that you're trying to get your bodies back and will do whatever it takes to make that happen!"

He turned away from her, grabbing his jacket from where it laid beneath the exam table. "Winry. You make it sound like it's easy."

"Listen to me!" she begged.

"Winry! You just don't know when to _shut up,_ do you?"

"Edward!"

She reached out to grab his wrist to stop him from leaving — if he left, she didn't know what she would do. She just wanted him to _stop._ But she missed his wrist and her hand touched his hip instead.

Ed gasped aloud in unmasked surprise as his automail leg suddenly stopped moving. Winry heard the suddenly silence as every actuator, motor, and gear stilled in its motion, locking up. He braced himself with one hand so that he wouldn't fall, but whipped around to look at her.

"What did you do!"

"I—I—" she stammered at first, not knowing what to say, before blurting, "I can fix it!"

Winry pressed her palm against his automail and focused her Nen into unlocking all its moving bits and pieces, her eyes suddenly bleary with tears. Ed took a long step away from her, stumbling slightly as his mobility returned.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"I don't know how to explain, Ed—"

 _"What — was — that?"_ he repeated through gritted teeth.

"Ed, _please!"_

"Is this why you were with Izumi?" His statement left her breathless and at a loss for words. "You think I didn't hear that Kimblee's soldiers had to go get you from Dublith? Is this what you were doing there with her?"

"No—"

"You went to Izumi to learn alchemy? For what, Winry? To bring your parents back?" he accused. Winry felt all the blood draining from her face. Her legs went out from under her and her knees folded so she sat hard on the floor. She didn't notice she was weeping.

"Ed, no…"

"So you saw the Gate of Truth too, didn't you know? And did you think I didn't notice that little demonstration of yours with Scar? Did you believe he was the only one who noticed?" Ed yanked the door open, looking back at her one last time with a disdain that made her clutch a hand to her chest. She sobbed, struggling to breathe.

"Ed—"

"You can't imagine what you've done, Winry. Get out of Amestris. And never come back."


	32. A Weak Stomach

"I—I can't feel my legs—"

"Don't panic just yet," Dr. Hirano said with utter calm. Winry knew the doctor had seen far worse than this on more than one occasion. "I want you to just look up at the ceiling and wiggle your toes for me."

Winry's eyes moved between Dorado's face and his feet. His red skin was shiny with the residue of his sweat, and the black tattoos on his face creased as he strained to feel himself move them. It was for nothing, though. His toes didn't so much as budge.

Dr. Hirano held out a hand, and Winry tore open the package containing a capped hypodermic needle, and handed it to her.

"Can you feel this?"

Dorado went still, though his brow didn't relax. His white eyes found Winry and clung to her. She did her best to keep her expression blank as Dr. Hirano sat with her hands in her lap, not touching his feet.

"N-No."

"Okay. And this?" She didn't move.

"No."

The doctor slid the capped pen down the sole of his foot a couple times without saying anything, and Dorado didn't react.

"How about now?" she asked, taking off the cap and poking his big toe with the sharp end of the needle. He didn't so much as flinch.

"No."

"I'm going to send him to imaging."

Dr. Hirano capped the needle and handed it back to Winry, who dropped it into the garbage can near her. They both removed their gloves them and they followed the needle into the trash. Dr. Hirano's eyes were focused on the man seated in a chair beside Dorado's bed. The man was oddly beautiful, with long white hair and an elaborate black coat with a fur neck that reminded Winry of Chrollo. He was Baka Ki El Dogra — Dorado's sponsor.

"Visual inspection of his back didn't reveal any signs of internal bleeding or foreign objects, so we're going to keep him stabilized on the stretcher. Winry, page for a team to come up to take him downstairs to imaging."

Winry did as she was told while Dr. Hirano returned the sparse medical items she'd taken from her black doctor bag back to it.

"My gut says you probably have an incomplete spinal cord injury from compressed bone," Dr. Hirano continued, looking at Dorado once again while she and Winry rose to leave. "I reviewed the footage and I don't believe that kick should've had enough force to cause any permanent damage. It's the swelling causing the paralysis, and once we get that swelling to go down you'll be as good as new, but the imaging tests will confirm it."

Dr. Hirano offered Baka Ki El Dogra then Dorado her hand, and each shook it. Winry followed suit. She kept her expression placid and relaxed.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Dorado-san," she said with the slightest bow of her head while he still held her hand. "You fought tremendously and I look forward to watching you fight again in the near future."

He let go as she rose and nothing more was said between them as Winry followed Dr. Hirano out of the fighter's suite. Dr. Hirano was already standing outside the door, keeping it propped open with a foot while Winry caught up. Behind them, as the door slowly eased itself shut. But, before it closed, she heard Dorado suddenly call out, _"Wait! Wait, doctor, I can move my toes!"_

She didn't say anything, or call Dr. Hirano back. Instead Winry just let the door snicker shut behind her and followed Dr. Hirano down the familiar orange hallway, past the suites of the 200th floor fighters.

The hours after Ed left were nothing but a blur. She remembered her grandmother coming in to comfort her, then becoming furious when she relayed what Ed had said. Then further refusing to consider leaving Amestris — her customers needed her there and, even though Edward had crossed lines, her grandmother still had faith that Ed would do whatever it took to keep their country safe.

But Winry couldn't stand to be there a moment longer. Her chest was caving in. It felt as though every rib was cracked and her heart had been ripped out. She remembered crying until she couldn’t breathe, and opening her eyes to see her grandmother's doctor standing over her to give her a sedative. The pain had cut deeper than any acetylene torch. She could remember, too, the moment she'd wrapped her trembling hand around her grandmother's, and whispered, _"I want to leave. Send me back to Yorknew City."_

She awoke the next day, and the house was as though nothing had ever happened. Her grandmother was downstairs working with her assistant, and from her room above the workshop Winry could hear the steady, reliable sounds of tinkering. She'd dressed and gone downstairs, but her grandmother had shooed her away to a stool before she could touch any of the work orders.

 _"I did as you asked,"_ her grandmother had said, not looking up. _"I've arranged transportation for you back to Yorknew City, in Saherta. Your ship leaves Xiamen in two weeks. You'll need to pack and leave in the next day or so in order to make it."_

Except there had been a layover by Heavens Arena, and she'd abruptly decided she was just going to stay there for a while instead. The Arena was one of the main places of employment for the city, and it had been easy to be hired on as a doctor's assistant — her interviewer had admitted the medical staff didn't usually last long, because the injuries were so overwhelming. Especially after surpassing the 200th floor. Her background in amputations, however, made her an especially appealing candidate.

 _"We need someone who doesn't have a weak stomach for blood,"_ they'd said.

She didn't.

So they'd paired her with Dr. Hirano, who usually dealt with the fighters on the 200th floor and above, and usually dealt with the more severe injuries on the lower floors. It had only been a few weeks, but she'd quickly settled into the routine of the arena. Follow-ups in the mornings, paperwork in the afternoons, then on-call for main events in the evenings.

The routine numbed her to thinking about Amestris. Her life there was over now and, regardless of what Ed said, she had no intention of returning — of her own volition.

She'd learned to hide her Nen, too. She let her body drink her aura back inside her — she'd overheard fighters discussing the technique while tending to them bedside after a match. It let her go about without drawing the attention of other Nen users at Heavens Arena.

Winry had accepted she could never have her life back. The things she'd loved and hoped for back in the days of living as an apprentice in Rush Valley were a thing of the past. She needed to look to the future available to her now instead.

Heavens Arena brought its own bittersweet pain. She'd found herself looking for Chrollo more often than she wanted to admit. Chrollo had called this place his home; he had a room here that was always his to return back to whenever he wished. He might come back, although she'd heard he was the Floor Master who was least requested to fight.

She'd looked for Hisoka, too. She'd seen he had a match scheduled for when she arrived and, against her better judgement, she had bought a ticket. He'd been a no show. Winry wondered if he was still at the Hunters Exam.

"Okay, we just need to do our follow-up with Sadaso," Dr. Hiranoo was saying, and Winry pulled out the clipboard as she walked to scribble notes down. "He lost his arm so it should be your specialty—"

They rounded a corner and Winry gasped as both women crashed into a man. Dr. Hirano tumbled backward, and Winry reached out to catch the doctor in her arms. Hisoka's amber eyes went wide and his lips parted into an 'O' of surprise when he saw her. Then his lips curved into a terrible smile.

"My, my," he drawled. "It seems I've found a cemetery mink."


	33. Bait

"Hisoka Morow," Dr. Hirano whispered, staring up at him with awe and fear before averting her eyes to her feet. She gave a deep bow. "My apologies, I hadn't meant—"

"I don't care," Hisoka cut her off, his eyes lingering on Winry. "You'll come with me now, mink."

"Please, no!" Dr. Hirano practically flung herself in front of Winry. "If either of us has offended, I will speak with the management to resolve the transgression. There's no need for this."

"It's fine." Winry sighed, puffing up her bangs while she stepped around the doctor. "We're acquaintances."

"Y-You are?"

"Acquaintances?" He clicked his tongue. "We were together almost every night for a year, and you call me a mere acquaintance?"

The doctor turned to her, jaw dropped, and Winry's head fell back in irritation. She reached for Hisoka's wrist, intending to pull him away from Dr. Hirano, but he caught her off-guard when he stepped in close and wrapped his hand around Winry's throat, slamming her against the wall. She almost used Nen. It was her first instinct, and she almost released it without realizing. Instead she reached her arm over both of his, then swept down, breaking his hold on her throat. Then she slammed her elbow up into his face.

He only frowned.

"This way," he said before locking a hand on her shoulder and steering her in the direction he wanted her to go. Hisoka waved mockingly at Dr. Hirano over his shoulder.

"Winry!"

"I'm fine. I'll meet you in the office," Winry called back.

"No, she won't. Winry's done for the day," he said as he pulled her around a corner.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, ducking to escape his grasp.

"What is wrong with _you?"_ Hisoka countered as he leveled his palm flat against her back to continue propelling her forward. "Why aren't you using Nen?"

"Technically I am."

"Yes, you've mastered Zetsu. Did the Boss teach you that?"

"No," she bristled.

They were at the door to his suite, and Hisoka unlocked and opened it in one swift motion. A firm nudge sent her stumbling inside, and she heard the lock _click_ behind them.

"Hmh. So why are you suppressing your Nen? You were getting so proficient back in Dublith…"

"Nen ruined my life!" she snapped, whirling around to face him. Months of silenced hurt, loss, and anger flooded out of her as she punched him square in the chest. Hisoka barely budged. "You took my job from me! I was used as a hostage at the northern border. Then I had to deal with that psychotic serial killer again—" Hisoka feigned a demure reaction, and she stood on the tips of her toes to hit him upside the head. "Not you, you insufferable—" Her lips pursed into a tight rosebud of rage. "You insufferable _clown."_

"Me?" he gasped, touching his fingertips to his chest in faux shock.

"And then Ed saw me use Nen, and he acted as though I used dark magic! Him, an alchemist! I had to leave my home _— again —_ and I can't go back! Why the hell would I want to use Nen?!"

Winry's hand clenched, and she wanted to hit him again, when she realized he hadn't retaliated at all.

"What's wrong with you?" she snapped.

"You've disappointed me," Hisoka said with a shrug. "You're refusing to use Nen when your potential was so great…" He crossed his arms over his chest. "…But you showed him Nen — he could have only seen something if you had developed a Hatsu." Winry's scowl deepened as he perked up. "What was it?"

"I'm not telling you anything!"

"You might as well. You can't get away from me now that you've made yourself a part of Heavens Arena." He gestured at her clothing; she was dressed in the whites of a medic, but her shirt still bore the emblem of Heavens Arena all the same. "You think anyone here would refuse me if I wanted to find you?"

"Chrollo would."

She heard his teeth clench, but a moment later his features softened into a semblance of relaxation.

"Then you would be giving me exactly the opportunity I've been looking for to fight him," Hisoka shrugged. "Tell me about this Hatsu you developed."

"Why have you returned to Heavens Arena?" she countered.

Hisoka rolled his eyes. "You never change," he drawled. "There's a boy here from the Hunter Exams who I want to keep an eye on." He raised his hand to his eye, forming a circle with his pointer and thumb as he looked through it at her. "Although I suppose I can keep an eye on you while I'm here as well. And I passed this time — thank you for asking."

"I really didn't care to know."

"While you're here, I could teach you a new ability." His hand lowered from his face and his fingers spread open in her direction, in offering. A finger twitched, beckoning her to come close. And she felt the draw. The memory of the adrenaline of training with him came back in a rush — standing in Izumi's yard, bathed in moonlight, while he coaxed her through trial after trial. It warmed her inside. Winry's fingers curled.

"I don't want to learn anything," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" Hisoka closed his hand into a fist, then opened it again. There was a card standing upright between his third and fourth fingers. He gave the slightest flick of his wrist and the card went careening across the room, embedding itself in the wall behind her. "I could teach you how to use Shu to do this." His eyes lowered before rising to meet her gaze again. Teasing. "It would be easy for you."

"Don't you have to fight while you're here?" she asked, averting her gaze as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I suppose I do. While I was in Amestris, I had to sign up for fights to no show for, and another while I was completing the Hunters Exam. I really don't have the loss to spare." He shrugged. "I've been told that Kastro thinks he's ready to try again."

"You'd be wasting your time. He isn't ready," she said.

"And you are?" Hisoka asked, raising a brow. Winry blushed. "I think you're just jealous."

"You're trying to provoke me, but I refuse. I'm not going to take the bait."

There was a knock on the door, and Hisoka sighed.

"Looks like my fun is over for the time being. Go find your doctor and finish your rounds — and don't bother trying to run away, I'd only find you, whether Chrollo helped you or not. If you could even find him."

Winry rolled her eyes and followed him to the door, grateful for the interruption. As they reached it, though, he turned and touched a finger beneath her chin. Then he unleashed his Ren upon her.

She felt herself go weak in the knees, and Winry threw out a hand to steady herself against the wall under the onslaught. She moaned. She could feel her aura unleashing itself, wrapping itself around her to cushion the forcefulness. Her head fell back and she exhaled with a shudder of relief.

 _"The drawback of Zetsu,"_ she heard Hisoka whispering, _"is that your sensitivity to someone else's aura is amplified."_

"Hisoka."

His Ren faded, and Winry's eyelids fluttered open. Machi was standing in the open doorway, arms crossed, staring at him.

"You're early," Hisoka complained.

Winry was nauseous but defiant as she pushed herself away from the wall. She could feel her aura surrounding her body — that familiar mineral oil sensation. Anger flashed as she realized this had been Hisoka's goal. Winry crossed to him, closing the distance between them, and slapped him so hard she clenched her teeth.

Hisoka's head lolled to one side, and he smiled at her. Her blood instantly chilled.

"I want to know about your Hatsu, Winry," he whispered as she stormed out the door.


	34. Taboo Where You Were

"So I guess we're gal pals now? Meeting up for lunch to gossip?" Machi asked once the waiter had left their table.

"I wouldn't presume you to be my friend," Winry sighed, and she propped her elbow to lean her chin in her palm. Across from her, Machi did the same, glancing around the restaurant with boredom. "So why did you want to see me?"

Her gut said it was something to do with Hisoka. She hadn't crossed Hisoka since she'd stumbled into his path the afternoon prior, thankfully. When she'd returned to work afterward, Dr. Hirano had been red-cheeked and stammering. _"How did you survive a year of sleeping with him?"_ the doctor had asked, and Winry had cursed before telling Dr. Hirano that really wasn't what Hisoka had meant. What an embarrassment.

"You don't waste much time on small talk," was Machi's comment before she flipped open her menu to thumb through it. The expression on her face was of perpetual boredom. "When we're done here, let's go shopping."

"Why would I want to go shopping?"

"Because I'm telling you to."

"You could start by asking my favorite color or my favorite food."

"So what's your favorite color?" Machi countered rhetorically. "Mine is morally grey."

Winry only rolled her eyes, then stared down at the menu in front of her, not really wanting to be here but having to concede that, if nothing else, she was hungry.

"Why are you at Heavens Arena?" Winry asked when Machi continued to ignore her first question.

"It's threefold. The Boss has sent me here with a message for Hisoka, and one for you. Hisoka also has scheduled a rematch against Kastro. Since I'm here anyway, Hisoka's paying me to stick around for the fight. Just in case."

"How did Chrollo know that I was at Heavens Arena when Hisoka didn't?"

"The Boss flagged your travel documents so he'd know if you returned to this side of the sea," Machi said with a casual shrug, as though that were a normal thing for a person to do. "He knew you were coming back before you even got off the ship, although apparently you threw him off when you didn't actually go back to Yorknew City but stayed here instead. So what's this Hatsu you have Hisoka twisted up about?"

The waiter arrived at their table then, and Winry and Machi both ordered Gyudon bowls with tea. They didn't speak again until the tea had been set before them.

"So, the Hatsu," Machi repeated as Winry took a sip. "I assume you've been learning to use Nen since your nodes were opened?"

"I had been figuring it out," Winry admitted. "A lot of it was impromptu — I was in situations where I ended up using it out of instinct, and figured out what I had done afterward."

That last bit wasn't untrue, but she kept the extent of her training close to her chest. She doubted Hisoka had ever told Chrollo about his intentions to go to Amestris. Chrollo was possibly unaware that she'd received the amount of training she had.

"What's your Nen type?"

"I'm a manipulator. What's the message Chrollo sent for me?"

"I'll tell you later while we are shopping. I seldom see Hisoka so visibly irritated, though, so you've got my interest," Machi said, stirring her tea lackadaisically. "Who's this Edward guy?"

Winry felt her face fall before she could hide it. The rhythmic stirring of Machi's spoon faltered.

"He was a childhood friend of mine back in Amestris. He lost an arm and a leg in an accident when he was a child, and I've built him every set of automail he's had since then. He joined the military when he was twelve — we started growing apart as we got older and he began taking my help with his automail for granted, and wouldn't tell me things anymore. We got into an argument about it. I used my Hatsu on him without meaning to, and now he's convinced I'm involved in something terrible. He said I need to leave the country. I can't go back."

"So you _do_ have a Hatsu." Machi gave the slightest nod. "Hisoka is _very_ jealous that you showed it to someone else but refuse to show him. He didn't like that at all. And, insult to injury, he said you were using Zetsu to completely suppress your aura. And you're using Zetsu right now again around me."

"I was and am," Winry agreed. She pushed herself away from the table with a shallow frown. "Nen has only brought me misery. I'd rather just pretend to know nothing about it."

"You said most of your learning was impromptu — in the moment," Machi said. "How would those instances have turned out if you hadn't had Nen?"

That silenced Winry entirely. It was then that their waiter arrived with their food, and the silence prevailed while their dishes were set in front of them.

How would those moments have been different? She wouldn't have been able to protect Hisoka or Ed in the moments it had mattered. She would've been a helpless bystander...the way she had been for most of her life. But thanks to her demonstration, Izumi had agreed to teach Hisoka alchemy. Because of her, Ed had captured Scar alive instead of taking him in dead. Things might have gone completely differently if she hadn't used Nen.

"If you fear your abilities, you won't be able to control them when you do need them," Machi said stoically as she picked up her chopsticks. "Perhaps Nen was taboo where you were from — but you are here now and, as you said yourself, you're staying here. I don't care whether you want to show Hisoka your Hatsu or not. _This_ is your home now. It's time you allowed yourself to be one of us. _A Nen user."_

They said little else while they ate, giving Winry the time she needed to mull Machi's words over. They weren't friends, and Machi had no reason to advise her at all. The other woman wasn't wrong, however. And Winry was smart enough to realize that. She exhaled, and let her aura resurface.

Machi merely gave her a nod.

"Let's go shopping," Machi said at last when she pushed her bowl aside.

Winry didn't argue, it wasn't worth making a scene. She finished her tea and laid out the money for her meal, then rose to follow Machi.

Fashion on this side of the sea was so different than in Amestris. The styles that the other women wore here — like Machi's _uwagi_ — felt unnatural to her, and uncomfortable to wear. She was also no longer a mechanic, at least in name. There was no reason to continue wearing her overalls here. Instead she wore a pair of olive _tobi_ pants with her old work boots. They bloused out around her hips and thighs, then were tight to her calves. She had on a plain gray tank top, tucked into her pants, and she still wore her bandana over her hair, too.

Machi led her through several stores, and pointed Winry to clusters of clothes. All of it, however, felt too formal. The robes that were traditional here were to the contrary of the kind of woman she was. Machi had rolled her eyes at each refusal. Inside a shop named Metallion, Machi at last tired of Winry's refusal. She'd shoved a pile of clothes into Winry's arms and all but thrust her into the back dressing room to try them on. Winry almost dropped them as she stumbled, and she grumbled a curse before hanging them on a hook on the wall. Then she turned, and sucked in a startled breath.

"Winry-san."


	35. As The Boss

Chrollo sat on the bench in the changing room, and now that she saw him she wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed him first. The immensity of his presence swallowed every free inch she hadn't already claimed for herself. He had come as she last saw him; with his black hair slicked back, and the cross tattoo on his forehead exposed. He wore his dark purple trench coat. The white fur collar lining it was as a pristine as she remembered. He wasn't shirtless beneath it this time, however. He'd donned a black shirt with white bands that crossed.

She remembered, the first time she'd seen him like this, thinking that it was as though he had taken a mask off. Winry was aware that he'd come to her without his mask intentionally now, too. He hadn't come to her as just Chrollo Lucilfer.

He'd come to her as the Boss.

"Machi said you had a message for me," Winry said once she overcame her surprise.

"I do. I hadn't been sure if you had ever intended to return, but it pleases me you have. I've heard that you've begun to explore your Nen abilities." His voice was still that gentle lilt, deceptive in its ability to command. "Is that true?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"We haven't had many opportunities to have frank conversations in the past, Winry. I'm afraid you haven't been able to know me — and my friends — as well as I would have preferred."

"This seems like an odd place to have made the time for."

"I'm here on personal business, and prefer to keep my presence unknown to most." His gray eyes were deceptively soft as they watched one another. "Do I have your assurances on that matter?"

Hisoka, Winry realized. Chrollo was referring to Hisoka. He'd come to Heavens Arena to watch Hisoka's first match against Kastro, and now he'd returned to watch them fight again.

Another puzzle piece fell into place. Granted, she knew Hisoka better now that she had a year ago — that night when he'd come to her on her balcony, the first time he'd shared that deviant smile — but how the piece brought the picture together made her straighten her back.

It'd never been about _her._ What Hisoka lusted for as he lived every day were worthwhile opponents. He considered her capable of becoming one, but he knew Chrollo was deserving.

That was why he gave her those items from the auction, because she'd ensured Chrollo's life on the airship.

That was why he followed Chrollo's commands — to get close to him, to fight him.

That's why he wanted to learn alchemy. For the advantage when they finally fought.

_"What do you want?" she'd demanded the day they met._

_"Just don't go hitting him with that little wrench too many times. Leave some of him for me."_

This had been about Chrollo all along.

"Are you going to kill Hisoka?" Winry asked quietly. One corner of his lip turned upward in an amused, demure smile before he shook his head _'no'._ "What is Hisoka to you?"

"Hisoka is Number Four."

"And Machi?"

"Number Three."

"Nobunaga?"

Number One."

"What are you?"

"I am the Head," Chrollo answered, dark eyes finding hers and not letting her go, "of the Spider. Together, however, we are the Phantom Troupe. Gen'ei Ryodan."

"And what do you do?"

"We steal, and we kill whenever necessary — without hesitation. We are wanted persons by the law, but we are our own law — no one can stop us."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have a skillset that would benefit me, Winry, if you consent to be of assistance when I need you."

He might kill her if she refused, or force her to help anyway. But the threat wasn't so weighty as it once might have been. Not because she didn't fear the consequences of refusing, no…but because she didn't want to refuse. Winry lowered herself onto one knee beside him and offered him her hand.

"I'll help you," she whispered.

His eyes found hers. There wasn't a single emotion visible for her to read — not pleasure or satisfaction, or doubt. Chrollo's gaze was cold, but soft as his smooth palm covered hers. She thought of Briggs.

"Even if it meant that blood needed to be spilled?"

Winry considered this before answering. Was she capable of that? It wasn't something she'd done — she'd come to terms with her desire to kill Scar, and the reasons behind it. But could she kill without discrimination at someone's command? Could she make her heart feel so cold?

_Ed would never know._

"Yes," Winry exhaled.

"Meet us in Yorknew City on September 1st," Chrollo commanded. "Machi will be your point of contact if you have questions."

Chrollo rose to his feet, and Winry realized she'd forgotten how tall he was. How he towered over her. He extended a hand to help her up.

"I would like you to give Machi a demonstration of your progress in Nen before then." Winry blushed. "There are only ever thirteen Spiders but, should something ever happen, I prefer to know who my options are. But I would need you to be strong — proficient. I need to know what you're capable of."

She let Chrollo pull her so she stood again.

"For us, the survival of the Spider is more important than the survival of the head, or any of the individual limbs," he said. "Though we go to one another's aid whenever we are needed. Loyalty to one over the other, however, should be limited. I'll ask you this once and I demand your honest answer, as I gave to you. What is Hisoka to you?"

Her stomach clenched as she wondered how much Chrollo was aware of. Did he know Hisoka had been in Amestris? That Hisoka had been training her? If she lied he would know, and he would kill her.

_"Do you trust me?"_

_"Hmh. No, mink. I do not…You are a onesome little thing. A wild card — difficult to predict. I have yet to decide whether that is a quality I enjoy about you. So no, I do not trust you. I likely never will. And it's best if you don't trust me in return."_

She was never to forget that.

"Sometimes a teacher," she answered at last. "But never someone I will put my faith in."

Chrollo nodded and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I don't consider Judas to be a traitor."

She watched as he opened the door to the narrow changing room and left, not glancing back. Leaving her to wonder what he had meant.


	36. Tacky With Her Blood

"This isn't what I had expected when Chrollo said you'd demonstrate your Nen to me," Machi murmured under her breath as she knelt before the door in front of them.

Winry didn't speak while Machi worked, instead focusing on using En to see if anyone was coming in their direction. She'd only used it a few times before when training with Hisoka in Dublith, but it was the most reliable ability for the situation at hand. They had less than two hours before Hisoka would fight Kastro, but Winry had it from a reliable source that the building would be almost vacant then — because everyone nonessential would be on their way to Heavens Arena for the fight.

Machi was using her needles and Nen to pick the lock, and Winry glanced back at her when she heard the door knob turn. The two women slipped inside the building without a word, and Winry didn't hesitate to cross to the doors to the exam room and pull them shut. She pressed the button in the top corner to engage the lock.

"Which one do you want?" Machi asked, her breath misting slightly in the cool air.

Winry sat at the desk and began flipping through a stack of papers on a clipboard, looking for the most viable option. Her eyes scanned each before turning to the page behind it.

"Number 4," Winry announced after a few minutes of studying the forms.

Machi crossed over to the small square door labeled '4' and opened it. Winry joined her to pull it out until the wheels dropped to support the dead body lying there.

Nakamura Hina. Age 47, cause of death: car accident. Winry made herself look at the woman's face. In death her sallow features were relaxed, jowls sagging. There were deep lacerations from where glass from the windshield had made itself comfortable in her skin. She was still relatively fresh — the blood had only just begun to pool. They were keeping her on ice until transport arrangements were made for the funeral home to come get her from the morgue.

Winry pulled the white sheet down to expose the body. There was a dark bruise where the seatbelt had locked across her chest. The real cause of death, however, were the punctures in her abdomen. Hina had been on her way home with a bundle of garden stakes when a vehicle had collided with hers, and the stakes had impaled her. Help hadn't been able to get her to the hospital in time.

"Get to it," Machi prompted as Winry continued to survey the woman. "We have to get back to Heavens Arena."

Winry gave a quick nod, then inhaled while she focused her Nen. This was her Hatsu — the skill she'd been quietly experiment with for months, long before Hisoka had left for the 287th Hunter Exam. Before she had gone to Briggs—

* * *

She'd been in the butcher shop after Izumi and Sig had gone to bed for the night. She hadn't heard Hisoka's footsteps on the stairs, nor as he came down the hallway. It was only when he was behind her, brushing a lock of hair back over her shoulder, that she knew he was there. The knife in her right hand had slipped, and she felt the blade bite across her left hand instead of its target. She'd dropped the knife and backed away from the cutting board before the blood had a chance to well up from the cut.

Hisoka had intertwined his fingers between hers and raised their hands between them — as though they were dancing. He stepped forward, forcing her to retreat, until she was pinned with her back against the wall and his body was a hairsbreadth from being flush against hers. Her breathing had been loud thunderclaps as Hisoka lowered his mouth to her hand, his tongue snaking across the cut. Her blood stained his mouth red.

"They aren't going to wake up again — you might as well go to bed," Hisoka had whispered, glancing briefly to the animal she'd been in the middle of carving.

She'd let him lead her by the hand, up the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The gash had continued to bleed and both their hands were tacky with her blood as he'd begun to draw her over the threshold — into his room.

Then reason had returned to her, and Winry had pulled away. Hisoka had merely shrugged and shut the door, leaving her alone on the landing.

* * *

He'd nearly caught her practicing her Hatsu that night, and had nearly caught her in something even deeper. Edward had seen it escape her control, but he hadn't really understood what he'd witnessed. Machi would be the first, and she most certainly would understand.

Winry closed her fingers so they were flushed together, then struck Nakamura Hina's corpse. Machi's eyes widened and her spine went ramrod straight, lips parting.

"Can you reverse it?" Machi asked in a whisper after her shock had faded.

Winry nodded, laying her palm over the dead woman's body and focusing her Nen. She heard Machi's admiring exhalation even though she didn't look at her.

 _"It's your hands…They weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life,"_ Edward had said.

Silly Ed. She could do so much more than that.


	37. Only Her

They were half an hour late returning to Heavens Arena.

Winry's feet moved more sluggishly than before as she followed Machi down the corridor to the arena, and her fingers tightened around the neck of the now-empty bottle of nectar she was carrying — she'd needed the sugar to perk herself back up after Machi had put her through the ringer back at the morgue.

"Not the stands," Winry said, putting her hand around Machi's wrist to draw her away from the line that was wrapping around the Arena's hallways. "I have employee access — we can watch from the service tunnel."

Machi consented and let Winry point her toward the entrance to the tunnel, where Winry used her identification card to open the door after she dropped her bottle in a bin. The screaming of the crowd let her know that the fight had already begun — as they drew near the end of the tunnel, the monitor displaying the fight came into view.

_"Are you just going to run? Or are you going to fight me!"_ Kastro's voice echoed over the PA system, his words barely audible over the screaming of the crowd and the pounding of the music. They were just inside the mouth of the service tunnel now and she could see the ring clearly.

If Winry didn't know better, she'd think Hisoka was on the run as he leapt out of Kastro's range again and again. Kastro launched a kick at Hisoka's head, which Hisoka blocked easily with his forearm—

But then Kastro was behind him, and the kick came from the other side.

A hand rose to cover Winry's mouth in shock as she watched Hisoka get catapulted across the floor.

_"That's a clean hit and a knockdown!"_ the referee declared, raising a hand in the air.

Winry remembered how Hisoka's first fight against Kastro had gone. Hisoka had never truly lost the upper hand, despite how many points Kastro had scored against him. But she'd never seen Hisoka in this position before, and it was unnerving to walk in on. What had happened to lead to this? He was so strong — how strong had Kastro become in the interim? And what was that Kastro had just done?

_"What a surprise, folks! I can hardly believe it. Kastro has been knocking his opponent around like a rag doll! The score is now 4-0. But what did I just see? Was that my imagination?"_

No, it hadn't been. Winry wasn't sure what Kastro had done, but she knew he had been using Nen — he'd clearly mastered a Hatsu of his own since having his nodes opened. Winry marveled for a moment that she and Kastro had their aura released at the same time, and she wondered what the gap between their abilities were. She knew it was unlikely she could beat him in hand-to-hand combat — she still had less than a year of experience at that, even if it had been with Hisoka and Izumi training her. But Nen…Could she beat him with Nen?

_"Can you still fight?"_

Winry didn't have to see Hisoka's face to know he smiled that indulgent, wicked smile. The one that left her feeling so rattled. The referee flinched away, and Winry let out a small laugh knowing she'd been right. Hisoka got back to his feet, brushing off his knees as he did, and Winry heard Machi clear her throat.

"So you're going to come?" Machi asked, watching the fight instead of her. "To Yorknew City?"

"Yes, although he didn't say what we'd be doing there."

"He didn't tell me either — he'll let us know once everyone is gathered there. But the Boss told me to make sure you bring your tool bag, and whatever you need to facilitate your abilities."

"I will," Winry nodded.

"I hadn't been sure how useful you were going to be," the other woman admitted, brushing a lock of her ultra lilac hair back behind one ear. Winry didn't respond, but then Machi continued, "The Boss doesn't usually take that kind of interest in people very often. Whatever you did on the airship made quite the impression on him — and on Hisoka. When they both said you didn't have Nen…Well, that seemed like wasted potential."

"It was _you?"_ Winry breathed, turning to look Machi up and down with new eyes. _"You_ were the person who opened my nodes?"

"Yeah. You're welcome."

Winry felt a muscle in her jaw leap. Machi's eyes widened and she took a step away, her hand falling to where she kept her needles. In the background, Winry saw Hisoka turn away from Kastro's oncoming attack to look directly at her, amber eyes sharp and wide.

Something felt different. The mineral oil sensation of her aura had changed. It was heavier now, denser. Thicker. Her vision throbbed. Machi had done this to her — nearly every terrible moment that had transpired since that night had been the result of Machi's meddling. Bloodlust. This was her bloodlust clawing its way out, she realized.

"Stay where you are," Machi warned.

"Or what?" Winry scoffed back between her shallow breaths.

_"Hisoka's right arm has been completely severed!"_

The shock of the grotesque announcement snapped Winry out of the rabbit hole she'd been tumbling down. She turned to look back out at the ring, seeing Hisoka's dismembered limb flying through the air.

"Hisoka!"

But Hisoka wasn't look at his arm. He was staring at her. His lips parted into a smile, white teeth pressed together and visible as his grin broadened. It was as though he hadn't even noticed that Kastro had injured him. He had eyes for only her.

_"If you still think you can get your way, you are sorely mistaken,"_ Kastro was saying.

Hisoka glanced back over his shoulder.

_"This is all within expectations,"_ was his blasé answer, but Winry didn't know whether he even meant it with regard to the fight at hand.

_"Wow! Have we ever seen Hisoka in such a perilous situation before, folks?"_ Hisoka caught his severed arm with his free hand as it completed its arch back to the ground. _"He's taken on some serious damage."_

Except Hisoka was chuckling.

The urge to hurt Machi was almost too much to bear, but Winry made herself focus on the fight between Hisoka and Kastro — she'd distracted Hisoka, and it had cost him a limb. She needed to keep herself under control. Machi could be dealt with later. Kastro, however, had…split? There were two of him, standing side by side against from Hisoka.

_"What in the world is going on here? Am I seeing things? Or has Kastro really split in two?"_

Hisoka seemed untroubled by the development. If anything, he looked mildly pleased. As if the change in circumstances benefitted him. Machi was watching Kastro closely now, too. The crowd was quiet as Hisoka bantered with Kastro, picking apart his Nen ability. Even though he'd lost an arm now, Winry felt in her gut that Hisoka had all but won. If Hisoka understood his enemy's ability then he could defeat it. That's all there was to that.

_"Incredible! We have an upset in the making!"_ the announcer cried out, but Winry shook her head.

No. She was sure this wasn't.

_"And now I will sever your left arm, if only to see if you can maintain your appearance of disinterest!"_

_"Hmh. Well, let's find out. Maybe I feel more up to it now,"_ Hisoka crooned, running his tongue across his lips then began to twirl his severed arm on his fingertip as though it were a sphere.

His eyes wandered to where Winry stood in the service tunnel alongside Machi. She inhaled a deep breath, unwilling and unable to look away. Everything before — the gifts at her hotel, his sizing for automail, his training in the use of alchemy — may not have been about her. But this was.

Winry gave him a permissive nod.

_"Shall I demonstrate my powers of clairvoyance?"_ Hisoka teased, tearing his gaze away from her to look back at his opponent.

"One day his showboating will get him killed," Machi sneered, drawing Winry's attention away from the ring.

"You're wrong. He isn't showboating — this is who he is. This is exactly who Hisoka is. He doesn't wear a mask or uphold a facade." The crowd cried out in horror, and she looked back to see Hisoka digging his fingertips inside his severed limb to pull out a bloodstained card. Machi's brow furrowed in disgust, but Winry felt her lips tugging upward in a smile despite herself. _The Jester is King._ "This is Hisoka being his most self."

_"That's the bizarre behavior we expect from Hisoka!"_

Wasn't it just.

_"I will sever your left arm so that you won't be able to mock anyone again,"_ Kastro declared.

Hisoka extended his remaining arm defiantly. _"You must not have heard me. You can take it."_

"No, he's certainly showboating. He would be far more concerned about losing that arm if I wasn't here," Machi disagreed. "He's seen me use my Nen stitches before and he knows I can fix whatever damage Kastro does."

She'd shown Winry her Nen stitches while they'd been at the morgue, comparing what Winry had reserved against what Machi was capable of doing. And Hisoka didn't know anything about Winry's Nen ability — so he had to be counting on Machi's.

Except that didn't fit the puzzle quite right either.

_"Hisoka has actually sacrificed his remaining arm!"_

Both women looked back at the combatants as Hisoka's arm flew out of the ring, landing then rolling across the floor like nothing but meat.

_"I was fully prepared to counteract...using this."_

"How did he—" Machi began to speak, jaw gaping openly as Hisoka revealed his right arm — reattached to its stump.

"Bungee gum," Winry answered while the sound of Hisoka's low laugh echoed over the announcement system. "He threw his arm and a scarf in the air when he threw the cards at Kastro. He'd already attached the Bungee Gum then to each, then back to his arm. And he had linked it to each of the cards. When Hisoka threw the Ace at Kastro, he attached those strands of Bungee Gum to him — they're attached to Kastro now, actually. When Kastro attacked, Hisoka just used his Bungee Gum to reattach his arm to his body."

"But there's no wound," marveled Machi.

"He camouflaged it with Texture Surprise." Winry remembered how he had used the same skill on her when they were in Dublith. "And, unless Kastro begins employing his Nen abilities better, he won't realize what's happening until it's too late."

"You really see all this?"

Winry nodded.

"I'd had high aspirations for you when I opened your nodes." Winry shot her a dirty look. "But you're far exceeding them. I hope the Boss sees your potential this clearly, too — if you can prove you have the stomach for it."

_"You're surprised because you don't know the trick?"_ Hisoka taunted. Neither Kastro or Machi had, Winry thought to herself, trying to temper the smug feeling in her chest. _"It's too bad, really. You had the potential to become a skilled opponent."_ Kastro and his doubled launched at Hisoka simultaneously, but Hisoka's eyes followed only one of them — Kastro faltered in his attack. _"You can't reproduce the grime that builds up during combat."_

Hisoka's amber eyes narrowed into slits, smiling as Kastro launched another attack on him — his last, and both Hisoka and Winry knew it. Hisoka struck back easily, his fist colliding with Kastro's jaw hard enough to make the other man stumble away, wavering on his feet.

The cards scattered across the floor seemed to move of their own volition, cutting into Kastro's body as he stood there, unable to block them or defend himself from the onslaught. Hisoka watched as Kastro collapsed to his knees before falling forward on his face.

_"Hisoka wins by a knockout!"_

Machi pushed herself away from the tunnel wall as Hisoka scooped his other severed arm off the floor on his way to exited the ring — and swaggered straight for them.

"Nice job," Machi commented with a roll of her eyes. Hisoka smiled at her with cursory. Winry didn't speak, but she didn't have to. Their gazes met and with it came understanding.

"Was one of you girls getting worried about me while I fought?" he teased. "I thought I felt something...stirring."

"Hurry up and just show me your injuries."

"Hmh."


	38. Bone and Blood Vessels; Nerves and Muscles

"I was never quite sure before, but today's match proved it," Machi waxed as she held Hisoka's two severed arms in her hands, shaking her head to herself.

"Hm?"

"You're an idiot."

Hisoka's expression was an unsettling symphony of his usual smug self-assuredness, and a bashful child who'd been caught succeeding at something they shouldn't have.

"That's quite possible," he acquiesced.

"What was that, performance art or something?"

"Well," he shrugged noncommittally before looking to where Winry sat in an armchair, her legs folded under her. Her expression remained unchanged. Not a word needed to be exchanged between them, though. Machi couldn't understand. While Winry wouldn't claim she did, she almost certainly could learn. And that understanding was slowly coming within reach.

_"What is Hisoka to you?"_

Perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps — dare she say it? — they were almost friends?

They had returned upstairs to Hisoka's suite to perform the procedure. They hadn't passed many people, but the few they had gaped openly when Winry and Machi had walked by with Hisoka between them, both of them with one of his arms in hand. Dr. Hirano had been sent up, too, and had seemed startled when Winry only shooed her away 

"Okay. You're paying me so I guess I can't complain," Machi said. "Winry, come hold his arm?"

Winry did as Machi asked, rising to her feet and crossing over to the pair. Machi handed her the left arm. She had the feeling the concept of this should've been more unsettling, but instead Winry felt all too comfortable. It was like being back in Amestris and assisting with amputations. Off comes the limb — or stump, depending on the circumstances — and then on went the automail. Too easy. Holding Hisoka's arm, however, was strange. Knowing that they would be putting it back on was even stranger. She hadn't considered that possibility before.

"First I'll need to stop the bleeding," she said as she use her Nen string to make a tourniquet around both stumps, pulling them tight.

 _"Hey,"_ Hisoka said, feigning a whine. "Be gentle, if you don't mind."

Winry pressed her lips into a thin line and sucked down an unamused breath. Be gentle. His classic warning that was normally leveled against her when she was getting too confrontational — although, who knew, maybe he meant it now. Maybe he was feeling sensitized. Better that he take those emotions out on Machi instead of her, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Turn off your aura."

Neither Winry nor Hisoka spoke as Machi announced she was starting Nen Stitches, and her fingers began weaving through the air gracefully. Her grandmother had taken her to see a group of musicians when she was younger, and it reminded her of the way the conductor had led them with his hands and baton. Hisoka's expression twisted, his high-arching brows raising and lips parting. His breathing grew shallow. He was enjoying this — lavishing in the sensation of Machi's needle piercing through his stump.

"There, all done. Bones and blood vessels, nerves and muscles," Machi said. She tugged on the Nen String in her hand, drawing them tight and Winry felt the arm she was holding get tugged out of her grasp as the limb drew itself back to its stump. The automailer in her went weak in the knees as she watched his flesh seal back together, leaving only a scar encircling his arm as evidence the incident had ever happened at all. Hisoka smiled as he stretched his fingertips, then flexed the muscles of his forearms.

"That's brilliant."

"Next I'll do your right arm. You can hold it yourself this time."

Winry gave Hisoka his last missing limb then perched herself on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. This close to him, she could smell the musk of his sweat from the fight, and see the dirt on his face. The makeup on his cheeks — the star and teardrop — were ever so slightly smudged. He tilted his head back to look up at her, smiling so that she could see his teeth.

"Was that delicious display of bloodlust during my match your doing?" he teased.

He leaned his head further so that his head was against her thigh, almost in her lap. Winry slid off the chair and crossed her arms in response. He chuckled.

"Something's wrong," Machi murmured. "My Nen Stitches aren't taking on this arm. I wove through all the nerves and muscle, but when I draw them together they aren't sealing. It's like the muscles are already dead."

"Hm," he said. "How curious."

"You're not taking this seriously. If my Nen Stitches don't take then I can't reattach your arm, Hisoka."

"That would be problematic."

Machi pushed herself away from where she'd been kneeling beside Hisoka as she disengaged her Nen Stitches. His arm fell to the floor with a thud. She didn't know what came over her — Winry covered her mouth with a hand as a giggle escaped her while she stared at the grotesque display of his severed arm lying on the carpet.

"You try it then," Machi snapped, shoving her needle and thread into Winry's hands. Winry's jaw dropped. Hisoka looked even more perplexed than she — his brows rose, his lips opened in a small 'O' of surprise, and those amber eyes _sparkled_.

"Excuse me?"

Machi stepped to her, her hands forcing Winry to close her grasp around them in acceptance. She was serious, Winry realized with dismay and horror.

"Do you want him to lose his arm?" Machi hissed. _"Do it."_

Winry stared at Hisoka as his expression morphed to excitement. His tongue peeked out the corner of his mouth and his head leaned back slightly as he watched her.

"Can you use Nen Stitches?" he asked. "That's a transmuter ability — a little out of your lane, don't you think?"

She didn't answer him. She didn't know if she'd be able to. She had experimented, but not for this. The risk was low for if she failed, however. Failure just meant he would finally get the automail he'd so desired.

 _That_ was it. That was the puzzle piece that had escaped her earlier during the fight, when Machi had bitched about Hisoka's showboating. It wasn't that Hisoka had confidence in Machi's Nen Stitches — it was that he was confident Winry would give him automail.

Winry threaded the needle. Her hands were almost alarmingly steady; she strung the thread through the eye on the first attempt. There was no chance of failure, and that alleviated the majority of the pressure from her. She knelt beside him and angled herself so that she could see the end of the stump, and Machi retrieved the arm from the ground and gave it to Hisoka to hold.

Machi hadn't been wrong when she said it was like the muscles were already dead, but Machi didn't have Winry's medical background and experience. Amidst the red muscles there were flecks of black — the tissue was necrotic. She knew what she was looking at. Winry sucked in a breath and glared at him. He just smiled.

 _"It's your hands…They weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life,"_ Edward had said.

Winry focused her Nen into her hands, and into the needle and thread. She touched her bare fingers against the stump and the limb, and felt only meat against her skin. It wasn't soft, wet, and fresh. It was stiff...and almost dry. Old. She plunged the needle into the injury and drew it back out, letting her Nen flow through it, too. The deadness of the injured stump slowly retreated, softening, and the cells began to shine like beacons for her to find.

Bones and blood vessels.

Nerves and muscles.

The limb, however, was harder. A bead of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck as she strained, her breathing ragged. It was _dead._ She began pulling the stitches to close them together, keeping a fingertip poised between them. Winry didn't know she was shaking. She was lost inside her intentions and the nerves that were firing into the unresponsive arm, willing the flesh to manipulate — to reclaim what was rightfully its. She felt the healed stump reaching out, plunging into the arm like roots penetrating into the cool depths of earth. The flesh began to tighten around her fingertip until she was forced to gradually withdraw it lest Hisoka's body consume her for its own, too.

Winry collapsed back so she sat on her heels, a hand on the ground to steady herself as she gulped down breaths of air. She was only vaguely aware of Hisoka kneeling beside her then lifting her in his arms — his _arms,_ she managed a curt laugh — then laying her in his bed.

She felt drunk. Her head spun and she was disoriented. Picking her head up from the pillow made the room spin, and Winry resigned to lying there, listening to Hisoka and Machi's not-so-distant whispers.

"What do you know about her Nen ability?" Hisoka demanded.

"Ask her yourself."

"She used transmutation and manipulation in tandem — flawlessly."

"You said before yourself that she has a medical background. Would it have been so far-fetched for her to utilize both?"

"Yes, actually, it would be. A manipulator should not have that level of proficiency in transmutation."

"Then interrogate your mechanic about it when she wakes up again," Machi snapped. Winry grimaced. _Your mechanic_ rang much too closely to _your alchemist,_ and it tasted too much of being taken for granted. "Be in Yorknew City on September 1st. And bring her with you."

"Now _that_ is curious. She isn't part of the Troupe, why should she come?"

"The Boss wants her there."

"Hmh," Winry heard Hisoka scoff. "I see. Well, if the Boss wants her...who am I to stand in the way."


	39. Summoned To The Gate

"Who are you?" Winry demanded, reaching for the gun on her nightstand.

Except this wasn't her nightstand, and there was no gun. Guns weren't permitted to be carried by anyone who wasn't security, or a weapons-authorized fighter on their way to a match, and she'd never resented that fact more than she did now.

She'd awoken with a start when she'd seen the unfamiliar man sitting in a chair across from the foot of the bed, his face illuminated only in part by a dim lamp. The man gave her a bored look, turning his away as though she'd slighted him by waking. He wasn't particularly handsome — his forehead was too broad, and his face too long. Black hair was slicked straight back and hung down past his hips. He was dressed in green, with gold-hued spheres dotted across his chest and around the neck of his vest.

"My name is Illumi Zoldyck. Hisoka asked me to keep watch so you both could sleep safely," he explained, gesturing to the bed beside her.

Winry was struck by a feeling of déjà vu as her gaze followed Illumi's hand to the bed beside her. Hisoka was laying so his feet were positioned at the head of the bed, shoes off with his toes tucked beneath a pillow. He wore one of the white robes that were provided with the fighters' rooms — she could see the Heavens Arena patch sewn over the heart. It had loosened during sleep to the point of being almost indecent. Hisoka had his fingers laced behind his head. He must have showered before going to sleep; his hair fell around his face in waves. His eyes were open, and he was staring at her through the narrowed slits with amusement.

"How long has it been?" Hisoka asked, tilting his head back so he could see Illumi.

"Six hours."

"Hmh." He looked back at her again. "I'd expected you to sleep most of the day after that display."

She certainly didn't feel finished with sleeping. Had she not seen Illumi, she likely would have dozed back off again. Her head ached, and a sensation akin to a wick struggling to spark alight was flickering through every nerve ending of her body.

"I'll finish sleeping in my quarters," she said, hauling herself off the bed. Her knees collapsed the moment she stood — but Hisoka had wrapped his hand around her wrist, and he yanked her gracelessly back onto the mattress before she had the chance to hit the ground.

"Unless you consent to Heavens Arena seeing me — or Illumi — carry you there, you'll stay where you are."

"Dr. Hirano already suspects the worst," Winry said with a roll of her eyes. "That threat isn't as effective as you might like to think."

He shrugged. "Very well. Then walk yourself there instead." Her nostrils flared with rage, and he smirked. "I'm not done with you anyway." Hisoka turned to Illumi. "If you don't mind waiting outside...This shouldn't take long. And make sure no one interferes."

Winry wasn't sure if she should feel less-than-pleased to watch the newly introduced Illumi rise to his feet with utter indifference and walk out, or if she should be relieved that now there was only Hisoka to deal with.

"My fight with Kastro did not go as I had anticipated," Hisoka admitted with a playful sigh. "After he took the first arm, I saw little reason to stop him from taking the second — but, to be fair, I hadn't expected such complications with reattaching them."

"Do you usually lose limbs?"

"It happens from time to time."

"Her Nen Stitches didn't work to reattach it this time, though."

"No,they didn't."

"What I did isn't going to last very long," Winry warned. "Your arm is hanging on by threads. The recovery window—"

"This isn't the most convenient time to get automail." Hisoka pushed his hair back away from his face with one hand, looking genuinely put off.

"So you've been telling me for a year and a half. If you had gone through with this back then — when you first fought Kastro — you'd be significantly recovered already. But you've put yourself in a position where you don't have much of a choice."

"Are you _sure_ you fixed it properly?" he asked, raising a brow. Winry's arm swung to slap him but he caught her wrist, then clicked his tongue at her in warning. "Careful, mink. After that little demonstration yesterday, my interest in you is beginning to renew. I'm admittedly tired as well, but if you provoke me then I won't be able to help myself."

"Don't you _dare_ accuse me of being the reason why your arm is damaged. That wound was old and decrepit! And maybe you could lie to Machi about how it happened, but not to me. _I've seen it before."_

"Hmh." He raised his hands in the air in defeat. "I would've thought you would be a little too young to assist with Edward's amputation."

"My grandmother let me watch, and his wound looked exactly like that. You tried to do something forbidden."

"So what if I did?"

Winry pulled on her hair in frustration, grinding her teeth so hard her jaw ached under the force. Her headache had escalated into a migraine, throbbing through her skull mercilessly. "You could've been killed," she finally snarled at him.

He only shrugged.

"The opportunity presented itself. It seemed unwise not to take it."

"What do you mean, the opportunity presented itself? Did you just go around for months waiting for 'just in case' the opportunity presented itself?"

"Don't act so surprised," Hisoka scoffed. "And while I was at the Hunter Exam, the Examiner from last year — you remember the one — thought he had a chance at vengeance. I wasn't going to bother with him this year...but since he made himself available, I thought I would see what all this human transmutation fuss was about."

"You—You really tried to perform human transmutation on him?" Winry breathed.

"I tried. It didn't work though, not that I had expected it to. If neither Izumi nor your alchemist could do it, my chances were slim. I hadn't, however, been prepared for the Gate of Truth."

She sat up a little straighter.

 _"So you saw the Gate of Truth too, didn't you?...You can't imagine what you've done, Winry. Get out of Amestris. And never come back,"_ Ed had accused.

"What's that?" she whispered.

"It's the source of alchemical knowledge," Hisoka explained nonchalantly. "When I attempted the human transmutation on Togari, I was summoned to the Gate for my transgression. It allowed me entrance — for a price." Hisoka wiggled the fingers of his dead hand. "Before it let me go, however, I used my Bungee Gum to seize my arm and drag it back out with me. Truth — the entity that appears with the Gate — only laughed as I took it. Once outside, I reattached it using Bungee Gum, and I've been controlling the appendage the same way. On the bright side, I no longer need to use a transmutation circle. Just like Izumi and your alchemist."

"Oh, Ed," Winry exhaled with a sigh, dropping her face into her hands. _That_ was why he'd been so distraught with her. He thought she'd attempted human transmutation to bring her parents back, and that the ability she'd used without a circle had been alchemy.

"Are you certain you can't fix it completely with your _fascinating_ Nen ability?" Hisoka asked. "This is already much improved — I don't need to use my Bungee Gum to move it now. Perhaps one more go would be sufficient?"

"It took everything I had to do what little I did, and the limb is _dead_. Long dead. It won't last."

"I supposed it couldn't be avoided forever, although this is likely the worst possible timing for it to be done," he sighed. "You still owe me a favor for the night I taught you to use Ten. It seems it's time for you to pay in full."

She swallowed hard. Ed always took her services for granted, and the sensation had become so ingrained in her that she'd completely forgotten she'd been in Hisoka's debt.

"I don't have anything here that I'd need to build you automail," she pointed out.

"Then go back," Hisoka shrugged.

Go back? Winry hesitated. Was it even safe to go back to Amestris? No matter how her final conversation with Edward had degraded, he'd wanted her and her grandmother to leave the country. Catastrophe was coming to Amestris, he'd said. Was there even an Amestris to return to? She sucked in a sharp breath — she'd written, and sent telegrams to her grandmother every so often, but there hadn't been any response in return. It was spring time there now. Had Ed said how long she and her grandmother should leave for? She couldn't remember—

"What's wrong?"

"I...I don't know that it's safe to go back," she admitted. "Ed had said something terrible was going to happen. He'd wanted me to leave the country. And I don't know what he'd do if he ever saw me again."

"I see. I'm afraid I'm unavailable to escort you back. I have fights I'm required to fulfill here or I forfeit my position, and I'm only one win — and one loss — away from what I need to achieve. But perhaps Illumi would be willing to entertain the idea."

"Illumi?"

She was about to suggest Machi, or even Chrollo, but the moment she thought of Chrollo she realized precisely why Hisoka hadn't suggested either of them. Hisoka might be a part of the Phantom Troupe, but he acted on his own — and he didn't want Chrollo to know his movements, the same way Chrollo didn't want Hisoka to know his.

_He leads, but it is a stretch to say I follow._

How curiously they danced.

"Unless you know of another Nen user comparable to me in strength who might accompany you?" Hisoka said. Winry shook her head; her other choices were non-options for the task at hand. "Then let's call Illumi back in so we can make the arrangements for you to craft my automail."

Hisoka's eyes closed and his features relaxed once he'd said that. His countenance became calm and dreamy. He exhaled a sigh.

"What is it?" Winry asked cautiously.

"I'm imagining what it's going to be like to watch you amputate the rest of my arm, mink," he said as he adjusted his robe. Her entire face puckered as realization set in, and she scooted a few inches away from him and called Illumi's name.

She suddenly didn't want to be alone with Hisoka anymore.


	40. Lighthouse

Dublith was as Winry remembered it, although why that surprised her so much, she wasn't sure at first. It hadn't even been that long since she'd left. Ed's warnings, however, left her with the distinct feeling that she had been destined to return to ruins. Instead everything was just as it had always been. Perhaps nothing had happened after all.

Or perhaps nothing had happened yet.

"The next train to Rush Valley won't come through until tomorrow," Winry commented after studying the train schedule. "I think I know someplace we can stay for the night though."

She'd intentionally made the decision not to go to Resembool to see her grandmother, although it made her heart ache to be this close. But, no matter what Ed had said, if she saw her grandmother then her resolve might waiver. The urgency to return back to Heavens Arena might lessen. That wasn't something she could risk when there was so much on the line.

Illumi matched her pace as they walked to Izumi's shop, eyes studying their surroundings with what she could only presume was curiosity. He seemed completely without emotion — a stark contrast to Hisoka and his ever-amused smile. Illumi and Hisoka were the perfect foil to each other; ying and yang, hot and cold. His reaction when they reached Izumi's storefront was equally different from Hisoka's: he had none. It made him impossible to read, and at moments she almost wished she could read his thoughts, but then decided she was likely better off not knowing. Any associate of Hisoka's likely had thoughts as sour as he did.

Winry climbed the steps to the shop, smiling to herself when she saw the green cactus leaf wreath hanging over its window, before she rapped her knuckles on the door. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed it open.

"Izumi? Sig?" she called, poking her head in.

Silence.

The shop didn't smell right. The pungent scent of iron — blood — was subdued. They hadn't been working cutting meat for at least a few days. Illumi caught the door as she stepped all the way in, then followed her inside. Winry didn't bother hunting for the couple. Instead she focused her aura and let En encompass the property. They were on the porch. Illumi let her lead the way to the back of the house to where the couple were outside.

"Winry?" Izumi said, turning in her rocking chair to look back over her shoulder with surprise as Winry opened the screen door. Sig sat up a little straighter as well. "And who the Hell is this? I'm not teaching anything to anymore of your 'friends'."

"I'm not here for that," Winry said hastily, putting her hands up in front of her. There was no way she was going to tell Izumi that Hisoka had used the alchemy she'd taught him to access the Gate of Truth. "I'm on my way to Rush Valley to get some automail equipment."

"Why are you even in Amestris? I thought Ed said he was going to have you and your grandmother leave the country."

So the danger hadn't passed.

"I came back."

"That's rather foolish of you," Izumi scoffed. "You shouldn't be here though. Especially if you've seen the Gate."

"Ed told you that?" Winry fumed, her face reddening and hands balling into fists of rage. "It isn't true. I accidentally used my Nen ability around him, and he assumed the worst."

"Hm. So you know about the Gate of Truth now anyway," the older woman sighed. "At least you haven't seen it."

"Ed won't stop keeping secrets about what's happening. I don't know if there's danger, what the danger is, who is the cause...He's kept me crippled and in the dark."

"That sounds like Edward alright." Izumi nodded, then sighed again. "I suppose it's high time somebody tells you what's happening. Especially since you're back in Amestris...and it's almost the Promised Day."

"What is the Promised Day?" Illumi asked.

"Who is this?" Izumi countered.

"This is Illumi Zoldyck. He is a friend of—" She almost said Hisoka's name, then realized she didn't know if Illumi even knew about Hisoka's time in Amestris. "—mine. He's escorting me to Rush Valley, then back overseas."

Winry could see the question in Izumi's eyes, and Winry gave the smallest shake of her head 'no.' It seemed to be the reassurance that Izumi needed — he didn't know about alchemy. Although, she realized, if they were here on the precipice of this Promised Day that Ed had warned of, that would likely likely change.

"You know how Ed and Al have been after a Philosopher's Stone in order to restore their bodies, because having one enables a person to bypass the laws of Equivalent Exchange?" Winry nodded; she'd been friends with the brothers long enough that she knew at least that much. "Philosopher's Stones can only be made by performing human sacrifices."

"At Briggs Ed said the military was ordering him to commit mass murder," Winry said, sucking down a breath. "I had been brought there to be used as a hostage to ensure he did it, but I told him to refuse. He said he was going to do it anyway though because they offered him a Philosopher's Stone as payment."

"The boys didn't do it," Izumi reassured her. "They were saying that in order to get closer to a girl from Xing to learn about her alkahestry techniques. But there is a nationwide transmutation circle formed in Amestris, connected by an underground tunnel that travels from one bloody battle site to another — Ed learned this while he was at Briggs. Its shape mirrors a symbol Ed saw when he discovered Labratory 5, where the military was trying to create Philosopher's Stones out of convicts. If it's activated, every person in Amestris will be materials to create a single enormous Philosopher's Stone."

Winry finally saw an expression break through on Illumi's countenance — his eyes widened, almost comically.

"Who would do that?!" Winry demanded.

"It's a homunculus called Father. He came to Amestris from Xerxes hundreds of years ago and established our country, then began using its military and civilians to begin forming a crest of blood at critical points to use now in order to create a massive Stone."

"What is a homunculus?" Illumi asked.

"It's an artificial human being created through alchemy," Izumi explained.

"What is your counterattack?" was his next question. The older woman's eyes turned to Winry then, filled with sadness.

"Ed is working with Scar—" Winry grimaced. "—and the girl from Xing to try to counteract Father's circle using alkahestry. Hohenheim came through here as well not long ago — he told me he likewise has created another circle that he hopes will stop Father."

"Hohenheim?" Winry repeated before blinking repeatedly. "You mean Ed and Al's father?"

"Yes. He looks just like Ed, actually," Izumi laughed. "I doubt Ed or Al ever told you, but I attempted human transmutation myself years ago after losing my child. The price I paid to the Gate was the damage done to my organs — the blood." Winry lowered her eyes, remembering how frequently she'd found Izumi coughing blood into a kerchief in a corner then brushing it off like it was nothing before going to wash her hands. "He helped me with that, too. There's a Philosopher's Stone inside him...He used it to rearrange my organs, but he couldn't bring them back."

"Will you be able to have another child?" Winry asked, and Izumi shook her head.

"No. Even with what Hohenheim did for me, I haven't had a monthly cycle."

Winry swallowed hard. "Izumi-san...May I try?" Izumi and Sig exchanged a glance, while Illumi's forehead creased ever so slightly while he listened. "I would need to make an incision."

"You may."

It was disconcerting when Izumi led them into the storefront and laid herself down across the long butcher block counter and pulled her shirt up a few inches. Sig pulled up a chair to sit near her head, and they intertwined their fingers together.

"Do you have anything you can take to numb the pain?" Winry asked while Illumi made himself comfortable leaning beside the sinks. She nudged him aside as she took out a bowl and filled it with warm water.

"No," Izumi answered, "but it's fine. After all I've suffered, this is but a scratch."

"I can't make any promises, but I want to try. To repay everything you did for me."

"Just do it. You know where the knives are."

"I don't need a knife."

She heard Illumi make a small sound of curiosity and take a step forward. Izumi's eyes were widening but Winry was already in motion. She focused her Nen as she touched Izumi's stomach. In this moment she wasn't a blunt tool for destruction; she was a precision instrument. Precision. Izumi let out a sharp cry as Winry's fingertips slid downward and Izumi's pale skin parted beneath her touch. Blood began to well up, but Winry used her Nen to stop its flow.

"I need you to focus, Izumi," Winry said as Izumi struggled against the pain. Her voice dropped to a whisper, so Illumi wouldn't hear. "Focus your Nen inside for me."

Izumi slammed her head back, the veins and arteries visibly throbbing in her throat, and let out a blood-curdling scream as she tried to do what Winry asked. But it was like a lighthouse's beacon came on, guiding the way through the cavern of Izumi's insides. She let her Nen snake and slither through, seeing on the insides of her eyelids everything Izumi was missing.

Her womb.

Her ovaries.

Almost all of her kidneys.

More missing organs, here and there.

Winry focused her Nen on manipulating what she found, multiplying and growing those few cells that remained. Izumi was screaming. Sig had a hand on her shoulder and his arm across her chest to keep her pinned down. Winry was only vaguely aware that Illumi was restraining Izumi's legs. She was deaf to her screams, though she felt Izumi's body trembling around the invasion.

_Precision._

Izumi went limp.

"What's happened? Is she dead?" Sig demanded.

"She's fainted," she heard Illumi answer. "It's for the best..."

"No, shit," Winry cursed quietly. The lighthouse beacon was dying now that Izumi had gone unconscious. It was hard to see.

She let out a breath as she withdrew her fingers, then slid her finger down the incision so that the flesh sealed itself. She stumbled back and caught herself on the sink, knees trembling beneath her.

"She's alright," Winry reassured Sig.

He bent to kiss his wife's forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow before scooping her up in his big arms and carrying her away upstairs to put into bed. Winry glanced up to see Illumi standing before her, his face shuttering his emotions.

"Chrollo Lucilfer's Hatsu is called Skill Hunter," Illumi said, sans precursor. "He must see you use your Nen ability. There's also a book he carries, where he stores his stolen abilities. I don't know what the conditions are that must be fulfilled for him to steal your Hatsu, but he must witness it himself, and something involving his book. Once he steals an ability from someone, however, it is his — you would never be able to use it again." Winry swallowed hard. His book. She'd seen it on the airship the day they'd first met. "Guard yourself well against him."


	41. Chrollo and His Book

Izumi regained consciousness an hour later but, by that point, Sig had already briefed her and Illumi about their plans. They had arrived as Izumi and Sig had been finalizing their own plans regarding the Promised Day.

They had previously made contact with Miles at Briggs, and now they would be heading north to meet with the Briggs forces before descending on Central...where soldiers would be trying to usurp the homunculus Fuhrer Bradley. Sig had told her that she should consider leaving Amestris immediately to return to Heavens Arena.

"I need to speak to Hisoka," had been Illumi's response to her questioning glance.

An operator had put their call through to Heavens Arena, where it had been plugged through to Hisoka's suite. He'd listened intently while Illumi had explained the situation — the Promised Day — before having Illumi hand the phone to her.

 _"Was Fuhrer Bradley the one who interrupted our little chat after you almost killed that Ishvalan?"_ had been his question. The only thing he'd asked. She'd told him yes. _"I'd said there was something unusual about him. Let me speak to Illumi."_

Whatever he'd told Illumi, Winry didn't know. But after he'd hung up Illumi had lowered his head slightly before saying, "We will assist you with the Promised Day, after certain conditions are met by Winry."

They seated themselves around Izumi's square kitchen table and planned through the night. Before Winry realized it, dawn was spilling through the windows and across the table's white finish. Then they parted ways.

She was behind Edward now, no matter what he had said to her in Resembool. No matter what had happened at Briggs. No matter the bitter resentment that she still harbored for being taken for granted and kept in the dark. The Promised Day was bigger than either of them, or anything that had happened.

During the train ride, however, she'd finally had the opportunity to mull over what Illumi had said about Chrollo. From what he'd told her, she knew now that the day she'd meet Chrollo Lucilfer on the airship that he'd been trying to steal her power — and that he'd somehow believed her ability with machines had come from Nen. It would have been flattering for him to have tried if the prospect of him succeeding wasn't so frightening. If her mechanical abilities had relied on Nen, then she would have been stripped of them entirely, and there would've been no one to blame except herself for handing them over like a fool.

Winry also realized she'd never wondered before what Chrollo's Nen ability was. She'd never even seen him use Nen. A part of her had known that his control must be masterful even though it had never been a conscious thought. He was, after all, a Floor Master, and even Hisoka coveted the opportunity to fight him. Did Hisoka know what Chrollo's Nen ability was? Did he know what kind of abilities Chrollo had stolen from other Nen users?

Did Hisoka stand a chance against Chrollo and his book of abilities?

 _"What kind of Nen user is Chrollo where he can steal abilities?"_ Winry had asked Illumi.

_"He's a Specialist, so his abilities are skills that do not fall into any of the other categories."_

The depth of her thoughts had lulled her to sleep until the train had arrived in Central, shortly before noon. Illumi disembarked ahead of her, glancing left and right as they climbed down to the platform. Everything felt different now...To know what they had made themselves a part of. That they would be trying to stop the Promised Day, and usurp King Bradley.

There was a pit in her stomach.

Izumi had told them to have trust, that things were already in motion and the rest was inevitable. As Winry left the station, she turned her head in the direction of a vendor's stall beside the road where a radio was playing. A small crowd had gathered.

_"Reports are confirming that the train involved in the accident late last night was that carrying Fuhrer Bradley. The whereabouts of the Fuhrer's wife is presently unknown, but there are reports of fighting between soldiers in the industrial district — five wounded, but no one dead."_

So it had already begun.

"Where is this address?" Illumi asked, handing her the slip of paper Izumi had given him.

She surveyed it, then glanced around at where they were. "This way," she said, already moving.

The city hadn't fallen into chaos yet, but the energy was changing. People were beginning to crowd near doorways to listen to the radios scattered around the stores and vendors that lined the street. Winry could feel the air becoming electrified, positively humming as the charge built. They didn't have much time — if they took too long, soldiers may arrive to reinforce their intended point of entry.

"It should be around this corner."

For a moment she considered if she should pause and peer around the corner to survey how guarded the building was, but rapidly decided against it. If the area was under any surveillance, it would immediately draw attention to them — far less than if they were to continue walking past its doors like any other pair of bystanders if necessary.

 _"Edward said there was one armed soldier, with razor wire and booby traps,"_ Izumi had said. Illumi responded, with surprising reassurance, that those would be no issue.

They rounded the corner and Winry moved to walk close beside him, placing herself away on the side by the street, and wrapping her arm around his to hold him. There was a skip in his step of surprise, and he glanced down at her but he seemed to realized the ploy and didn't push her away.

There wasn't one soldier; there were three. Winry was dismayed, but not entirely caught off-guard — the Promised Day was here, and they were prepared to protect themselves. Illumi didn't change course. Were they going to engaged they soldiers on the street?

Illumi waited until they were almost across from the entry to Laboratory 5, when he suddenly disengaged his arm from hers and made his move. He dodged swiftly around the three guards, plunging a needle into each of their necks. Their eyes went wide then glassy.

"Are there soldiers inside?" Illumi asked them.

"No."

"Is there anyone else inside the building at all?"

"No. Everyone has left to go headquarters."

"Unlock the door, then resume your position. Do not let anyone else from the government enter this building."

"Roger that," a soldier responded. "Too easy."


	42. The Wall

As two of the soldiers stepped aside, the sound of gunfire echoed in the distance like early morning thunder. A siren rang overhead. That would be Mustang's team's doing. Winry swallowed hard, and touched her gun for reassurance. She debated whether she should draw, or rely on Nen. She didn't know how to protect herself against bullets with Nen, or if it could even be done. The third soldier unlocked the door to give them entry, and Winry followed Illumi inside. She heard the soldier securing it behind them.

That had been almost too easy, and it was odd for them to fortify the door if the building itself was empty...But the Fuhrer also likely had expected his soldiers to have time to react and be able to resist if they were approached. Illumi's technique had rendered them incapable of either.

The inside looked as though a bomb had gone off. The walls had thick fractures, and chunks of concrete covered the floor like the inside of a cave. What had happened here? How was the structure even still standing?

"Can I use Nen to protect myself against bullets?" Winry asked as they headed down the corridor, stepping around the rubble as they passed the unmanned check in station. The thick pane of glass that had separated the attendant from visitors was shattered in pieces across the ground. A crack in an exterior wall allowed a fracture of sunlight to slice across the broken floor.

"It is doubtful that you'd be able to," he admitted. "It would require incredible focus, and you would need to anticipate what area of the body you would be shot. If you were caught off-guard your likelihood of success is low. But you can use your Nen to stop bleeding and minimize the damage until you can seek treatment." Illumi glanced down at her. "You seem to have masterful control over that already."

She wondered where Ed and Al were, but she was glad to be off the streets before the chaos started.

Laboratory 5 was eerie and still. They had to go downstairs and, from what she understood, that was where the work was done to make Philosopher's Stones...The sacrifices. How many people had died here?

But, she wondered then, if they were going to experiment on people wasn't it better if they used convicts? The people kept in the prison next door were almost all condemned to death anyway, waiting for their turn at execution. They would have died anyway. If their government was going to do such terrible things, wasn't it better that they turn their attention on the dregs of society instead of continuing their warfaring at the expense of the civilians?

Winry pinched the inside of her upper arm hard to bring herself back to rational thought. It didn't matter if their experimentations had been against criminals — the prisoners had been practice for the Promised Day, when the entire country would be used as fuel. Every civilian, without discrimination. That couldn't be tolerated.

They found the stairwell off the main hallway. Downstairs didn't have the grace of beams of light shining in from outside. With a subtle nod to each other, Winry focused her aura so she could feel if anyone was in the area. Every time she used En, it surprised her how much further she could reach than the time before. She knew Illumi was doing the same, and had no doubt he could sense even further. The stairway felt solid, but small boulders from the ceiling forced them to navigate their way carefully down the dark steps. There was a prolonged moment while she had to let her eyes adjust to the darkness only to see that the lower level was as the soldiers had said — empty.

At the bottom of the stairs was an open hall. It was then that Illumi took his cellphone from his pocket and turned on its light to illuminate the room; Winry momentarily lamented that hers didn't do that. Drawn across the massive spread of floor, was a transmutation circle, covered in rubble. On one wall hung a tapestry with a pattern of triangles surrounding a star. A split down the wall skewed it so it hung at an angle. It was the same design as what was in Central command — three triangles in circles beneath a star, with a sun and a boulder above them in symbolism of Heaven and Earth.

"Where would the tunnel entrance be?" Winry wondered aloud.

Illumi began walking around the room, rapping his knuckles on the walls until he heard something that satisfied him.

"Here, the tunnel entry is behind this wall. We haven't the time to search for how to open it, and the original avenue may not be accessible due to the structural damage. We will use Ko in tandem to break the wall."

Winry got into her stance beside him as he set his phone down a distance behind them where it'd be safe, poised to strike and focusing the entirety of her aura into her fist.

"On three. One — two — _three —"_

They struck. Winry put all her force and might into the punch, her entire body going into the motion. If it hadn't for her training with Hisoka, Izumi, and Sig she might have flinched away out of fear of how much it would hurt her. But now wasn't the time for hesitation or concern for herself. There was so much at stake that was so much greater than just her body, and she'd been trained past that anyway.

She felt the concrete crack beneath the might of their combined strength, and it ricocheted up her through her shoulder.

"Again! One. Two. _Three!"_

Her hand broke through this time, and stale air rushed out of the sealed tunnel across her face in a stagnant breath that was tinted with the scent of blood. The opening was just large enough for her to slip through. Illumi had to stoop over, but he was slender enough to manage his way in as well after he'd retrieved his phone from the ground.

The tunnel was narrow, just wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. There were no markings to help them identify their route.

"Izumi said we'd need to go northwest," Winry said. Illumi pulled up a compass on his phone — she hadn't known that was an option on cellphones either — before pointing to their right.

"This way."

Winry kept pace with Illumi's long, quick strides, at last unholstering her gun. She wrapped her hand around the grip, her fingers molding around it with familiarity. This wasn't her only weapon now, but her Nen ability required her to be in close proximity to her target to attack. Her and Illumi's breaths echoed down the corridor ahead and behind them, and every so often she reached out with En to ensure they were still alone.

A barrage of screams suddenly echoed around them, and Winry felt the floor beneath her tremble at the force of the cries. She spun in the direction of the sound and found herself only staring at a wall. She faltered at the inhuman wailing.

"W-What is that?" she gasped, expecting the cries to abate but they carried on without cease. Illumi managed to look alarmed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Perhaps the sacrifices for the Promise Day have already begun. We must hurry."

They quickened their pace, and the sound of the screams only grew louder. Winry's breathing grew unsteady, and she blinked away tears. Suffering. Those screams were so full of suffering, and rage. Illumi remained stoic as they raced on. What was lying in wait for them? What were they walking into? She'd only been tested against Hisoka, Izumi, and Sig. Self-doubt came bubbling up. If Illumi had shown any hesitation, perhaps she would have turned back. But it was his mettle that kept her moving forward. If they didn't, then they might fall victims to the Promised Day regardless.

"The tunnel! It's a dead end!" Winry gasped, dread rushing through her. Had they gone the wrong way? She leaned over to look at Illumi's phone so as to see the compass, but the dead end they were standing in front of was directly northwest. "Then...this must be it." She raised her gaze to meet his, and she swallowed hard. Her heart was thundering.

_Then this must be it._

Winry sheathed her gun without another word and they both turned to the wall in front of them. She reached out with En one more time and counted the people on the other side. In her exhalation was a wordless prayer to a God she'd never thought to put her faith in before, followed by a second prayer of trust in herself.

In Illumi.

In Edward.

In Alphonse.

In Hohenheim.

In Izumi.

In Sig.

In Ling.

In Mustang.

In Marcoh.

In Scar.

Faith that they could do this. Faith that the Promised Day was only a potential and not a foretold guarantee. To save not only their own lives, but the lives of every person in Amestris. Like her grandmother. Like Gracia, and Elicia.

Winry's hand tightened into a fist and she squared her shoulders and dug her heels in.

Like Hisoka, whose future was depending on her return.

Like Chrollo, who expected to see her in Yorknew City on September 1st.

"I'm ready," she said, barely hearing her own words over the thundering of her heart as Illumi mirrored her stance. "On three."


	43. The Promised Day (Part I)

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at them in surprise as Winry and Illumi emerged from the wall, and Winry was relieved to see she already knew two of them.

"Major General Armstrong! Major Armstrong!" she exclaimed, immediately falling in beside them and Illumi followed her lead. She drew her gun. There was a gray-skinned giant standing in the center of the hall, the teeth in its maws pointed and sharp. It was the most muscular creature she'd ever laid her eyes on, and was more than twice her height. A black mask hid its eyes. Chains as thick as her leg hung from its broad wrists. "What is _that!"_

"That's a homunculus," Olivier said shortly.

"Young Miss Winry!" Alex gasped in stark contrast to his sister's reaction. "What are you doing here?!"

"We're your reinforcements! Tell us what to do!"

Olivier immediately said, "Put your gun away. Bullets don't work on him."

"You shouldn't be here!" Alex insisted, and Winry saw Olivier roll her eyes.

"Trust me," Winry countered as she holstered her gun, leaving her hands free. Illumi drew out his needles, lacing one between each of his fingers as the four of them turned to face the beast. Perhaps it was something he read on her face, but he didn't argue further.

"Together then!" Alex declared, and he tossed a barrage of debris into the air then punched the stones with his gauntlets.

Winry watched as the rocks morphed into missiles and, propelled by the magnitude of his blow, were launched at the homunculus. They struck the homunculus, shaking it on its feet but only pushing him back a step. One collided with his head and a spurt of blood gushed upward. She wasn't sure why she felt so surprised to see its blood was red.

Olivier charged in without hesitation then, sword drawn, and Winry let out a cry as she followed her in. Olivier jumped onto a column and used it to leap onto his chest, burying her sword into the head wound like it was a target. Winry landed on her hip and ducked her head, sliding between the homunculus' legs. As she skidded behind it, she struck the backs of its knees with her flattened hand. The material of its pants ripped open and its gray skin split open under her touch, the ligaments on each side splitting in two. It collapsed down to its knees with a grunt, and Winry flung herself backward to put distance between them.

"Ow, I'm dying. I hate dying, it's such a pain," the behemoth grunted, covering its head wound with its hands while it rested on the floor. Winry swallowed hard — Olivier had put the entire length of her sword into its skull, and it was still alive? "Coming back is a pain. But then...fighting all out is the biggest pain of all."

"Say what?" Alex balked from the other side of the room.

The doors to the hall flung ajar and a squad of soldiers rushed in, guns drawn.

"Alright, General Armstrong! Throw down your weapon!" one declared. Then he saw the homunculus. "What the—What the hell is that huge thing?"

The homunculus let out an animal's cry, and Winry's eyes immediately went to its injured legs — the wounds were gone. She scrambled to her feet as it launched itself forward. One breath it was there, and the next dust and debris clouded the hall. Winry covered her mouth and nose with her arm as she ran forward to rejoin the others. The homunculus had collided with the wall beside the doorway in. How had it moved so fast?

"Looks like I missed," it lamented, then turned on Olivier. The General narrowly dodged the homunculus as it swept by her in a windstorm. Winry's hair whipped her face, and as she brushed it back she saw crimson staining the sleeve of Olivier's uniform. She hadn't dodged the attack after all.

"Sloth the Indolent indeed," Olivier spat.

"For him to have that kind of speed at his size is just—"

"I know. It just keeps getting better."

"Yes," Sloth grunted as he righted himself. "I am the fastest homunculus of them all."

He flung himself, and the force of his movement sent each of them spinning. Winry was tossed across the floor, while Illumi was slammed into a wall, dropping his needles. Another plume of dust from his collision filled the air, but before any of them could recover he moved again, launching himself at Olivier.

She was his target, Winry realized. He didn't care nearly so much about them. It was Olivier he was focused on. "He's too fast to control his movements!" Winry called.

Except they couldn't be fast enough to stop him, and his aim had been true this time. Sloth barreled toward Olivier with the speed and might of a freight train.

"Finally. I hit you," the homunculus declared, and Winry was scrambling toward them before she was even aware of what she was doing.

But as the dust settled, she saw Sloth hadn't. Alex had wedged himself between them, one powerful leg braced against the wall while his muscular arms captured Sloth's blow. The veins through his scalp throbbed and surged with the exertion, and he managed to meet Winry's eyes.

"Thanks," Alex grunted, "for noticing that."

The two alpha males locked in their power struggle, bodies bulging with effort. Winry went low again. She crossed her arms in front of her, then dragged her left hand over the tendon of Sloth's ankle, while her right glided across the ligaments of his knees again. He would heal from it again, she was sure, but as Sloth began to tumble backward it was the opening Alex needed. He freed his arm from the fray and slammed it into the floor. Sparks flew as the concrete transmuted, and Sloth tumbled through, and all of them with him. The General landed hard, unconscious, while the others managed to avoid the worst of the rubble.

"Olivier!" her brother cried.

But Sloth's groaning cut through the room. "I'm going to kill you quickly, and then sleep!"

Soldiers flooded in behind them, but they were already moving.

"Illumi, he's going to try for her again! Do it now!" she shouted.

Illumi had maneuvered himself to be beside the hole in the wall and, as Sloth charged through, he threw one of his needles. She saw his hand move with the throw, and, then she only felt her stomach clench — Sloth was moving so fast, and Illumi would've had to aim for where Sloth was going to be at the moment of impact. Not for where he was now.

Sloth's footsteps suddenly slowed. Winry didn't have time to see whether Illumi's needle had found its mark. She didn't hear if Illumi called out a command to the brute. She charged forward, rushing up a mountain of fragments, then leaping through the air. She landed on his back, and her arms wrapped around his neck. His neck was too thick though, and her grip began slipping. Winry dug her heels in for the moment it took her to focus her Nen, then let gravity to the rest. Her hands slid across the soft skin of Sloth's throat, and she felt her fingers cutting through the flesh. It wasn't the shallow, precision cuts she'd performed earlier. The entirety of both hands were knives, and the meat of his neck swallowed them whole, but she kept cutting through. His head flung back, like the hinge was broken. Winry fell to the ground, landing in a crouch as red blood from the wounds she'd inflicted gushed down her arms. Sloth screamed.

There was a _slam_ as Alex drove his gauntlet into floor. A jagged wedge of concerted the size of a tree trunk erupted up from the ground, and pierced the homunculus through his bellowing mouth. His rows of sharp teeth broke off, flying around the room, as it impaled him, jutting out through the back of his head. The damage she'd done to his neck stopped healing. Blood poured down his shoulders and chest. She plunged into the fray one more time, slicing through his forearms so that the limbs fell to the ground, twitching and useless.

_"It's your hands…They weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life."_

No, Ed. They were meant to do both.

 _She_ was meant to do both.

"Alex!" Olivier cried out as she roused back to consciousness.

"I knew he was going to come charging in, so all we had to do was wait fo him," Winry breathed, pushing herself to her feet. She walked around the homunculus, shuddering as she watched it blink at her.

"Olivier, are you able to stand?"

The soldiers only leveled the muzzles of their guns on her.

"By the way," the General said, cradling her injured her. "There are orders to shoot me for being a traitor."

"What? We can't have that! You can't die until all of the paperwork is in place!"

Alex and Olivier began to argue, while Winry crossed to stand Illumi. The soldiers only watched while the siblings argued, but then a ricochet in the hallway made the collective turn to look at the doorway.

"That was gunfire," Winry whispered, drawing her gun.

"Mustang's soldiers?" one of the soldiers asked another questioning lay.

The doors to the hall flung open as another soldier tumbled in, dead. His companion backed into the room, the gun in his hands meeting its max rate of fire, before someone lunged into him, taking him to the ground. The gun skittered across the floor, smoking.

A creature stepped into the room, more horrific than the homunculus had been. It's body was a grey so pale it was almost white, and red tubes and nodules connected to their abs and chest before tracing up their gaunt faces to a single bulbous eye. Winry stepped forward, raising her gun before resigning to return it to its holster. If the soldier's machine gun hadn't been enough to slow them down, then it wasn't worth wasting her handgun's ammunition.

It would have to be hand-to-hand again.

More filled the doorway before one gave a piercing shriek, and the horde stumbled in, jaws gaping and bony, claw-like hands reaching out toward them. The soldiers between the creatures and Winry's group leveled their guns and began shooting. She covered her ears, watching in magnifying horror as the monsters fell to the ground — only to slowly push themselves back up and charge forward again.

Her mind raced, swallowing everything down at once. They were immune to gunfire like the homunculus, and the nodes on their bodies mirrored those that she'd seen on Sloth. Was this an army of homunculi? What had created them? Except she already knew the answer — Father had fashioned them, and brought them to life with Philosopher's Stones.

"What are they?" one of the soldiers stammered.

"I'm guessing they're the same as this guy," Winry said, holding her ground as she nodded her head in Sloth's direction. Olivier nodded.

"The one who gave you your orders must have sent those things out here for the attack," the other woman agreed. "Alright, soldier. What's it going to be? My brother and I can take care of these monsters."

"Maybe so. But..."

The air behind them suddenly went electric, and Winry whirled around to watch as Sloth's arms finished their regeneration, gray skin sealing his insides back in. He gnashed on the trunk that had impaled him, splinters of rock cutting through the air.

"Is he—"

Winry flinched as Sloth snapped off the end of the stone that had impaled him, rising to his full height. Her stomach dropped. Even that hadn't killed him? Olivier seized the gun of the soldier she was arguing with, and pressed it between her eyes.

"Well! What's it going to be! Are you going to shoot us and then fall prey to the monsters after, or are you going to work with us and bring them down together!" the General demanded. "Make up your own damn minds now!"

Sloth squeezed his jaw, and the missile-size rock in his mouth shattered, then his face began reshaping as it had been as he healed. Overhead, soldiers were beginning to rappel down through the hole in the roof.

"From this point on I'll be running the show!" the General declared. "Help us out or we all die!'

"What the Hell are those!"

"Everybody get down now!" Alex cried, snatching up one of Sloth's chains and pulling back his arm to swing. Winry and Illumi dropped flat on their stomachs as more of the mannequin soldiers swarmed in. He unleashed the chain, whipping it through the air and taking the creatures off their feet.

"Go for their upper jaws!" Olivier shouted. "At least if we get rid of those we won't be eaten. Attack in pairs and take out at least one. Get ready to fight, Central soldiers. Show me your courage, men!"

Sloth turned to stare at the chaos, and Winry prepared to lunge at him again when she saw what Alex had been doing with the chain. It had wrapped itself around Sloth's leg, and Alex held it taut.

"Let go," Sloth demanded, then retaliated with a lash from the other chain still linked to his arm. It whistled through the air and struck Alex hard. His spine arched and he let out a loud cry, but he didn't let go. Sloth charged Alex, but there was a mannequin coming at her. She ducked its hungry mouth, then came up, slicing cleanly through its head with her hand. The severed skull fell to the floor with a wet thud.

"More? Will they never stop coming?" someone cried as another wave came through. Alex was warning soldiers to stay back as Sloth launched another brutally fast attack, slamming into the wall.

Chaos reigned. Winry glanced down and saw one of his chains at her feet. She grabbed it in her hands and flung it at Illumi, using every ounce of power she possessed.

"Grab on!" she cried.

Together they drew its heavy lengths off the floor as Sloth launched himself at the Armstrongs yet again, and Winry let out a guttural cry as the chain caught the homunculus across the chest. She and Illumi stumbled forward at first, but Winry concentrated her Nen into her hands and feet, digging in to stop Sloth in his tracks. Were they strong enough, just them two together? It didn't matter. They had no choice except to be. Sloth growled, forcing his way forward inch by painstaking inch. Soldiers grabbed onto the chain to help them restrain him. Their resolve held.

It was the chain that snapped.


	44. The Promised Day (Part II)

Winry let out a cry of dismay as she and the soldier tumbled into a heap, then the world slowed. She could see everything, but felt too impaired to react — control was evading her, slipping through her fingers. Sloth dove forward, hands reaching and snarling like an animal, when a _crack_ thundered around them, so powerful that Winry blinked and shied away from the sound. When she opened her eyes it was to see Sloth had been struck off his feet, and the wall had been transmuted outward to block his attack. Winry surged to her feet as Izumi emerged.

"That's impressive," Izumi said to Alex with a smile that showed her teeth. "You're a fine man, but then I've already got a man a hundred times finer than you! And you, a female officer. You must be the indomitable General Armstrong then."

"Such a pain," was Sloth's almost mechanical grunt as he got back to his feet, and ran at Izumi. Izumi turned to him, grabbed him by his arm, and launched him overhead as though he weighed nothing.

"Honey! Coming at you!'

Sig stepped forth and swung on the homunculus without a moment of hesitation, catching Sloth around the neck before tossing him away. Winry instinctively focused her aura in her eyes, and with Gyo she saw Izumi focusing her Nen for what she would do next. Both Armstrongs gaped as Sloth hurtled through the air, tumbling head over feet to collide with the far wall, embedded into the stone. Alex and Sig met in the center of room, exchanging a firm handshake as Sloth found his footing once more. Was this monster truly immortal? What kind of chance could they possibly stand against them?

"He's coming!" Winry called as Sloth lowered his head and charged at them one more time.

But Sig and Alex turned to the homunculus without flinching and, in perfect synchronicity, met the creature with mirroring blows. Their combined force had Sloth flying through the air. He landed on his back, and blood erupted from his gut as a jagged, broken piece of cement impaled him. Winry flinched away as red lightning crackled from the homunculus' body. It let out a groan.

"Will that monster never stay down!" Alex cried out, but he spoke to soon. Sloth reached for the rubble protruding from his torso only to stare as his hands began to disintegrate into dust.

"Am I dying?" Sloth wondered aloud. "What is dying like? Such a pain to think about it...But such a pain...living, too."

Winry felt the tightness in her chest relax as his body crumbled away, and taking the whiplashes of lightning with it. They'd done it. She turned to the others as Alex collapsed to his knees, his body streaked with blood that belonged to both he, his sister, and the homunculus. Soldiers and Sig dashed forward to help him back to his feet.

"Eliminate the mannequins!" Olivier shouted to the soldiers who'd stayed stationary, agape at their improbable victory. She lowered herself to sit down across from Alex, using her sword to keep her balance as she did. "I don't know who you are, but I'm grateful for the help."

"I assume you've met the Elric brothers. They're like family to me," was Izumi's response, and Olivier's eyes widened.

"Does that mean you're Izumi Curtis?"

"That's me."

"So I assume the Elrics are here, too."

"Yeah. I imagine they are." Winry's gaze strayed to the window as silence settled over their group.

"Can you stand?" Alex asked, and Olivier scoffed before rising to her feet. Izumi put her hands up to stop her.

"Hold on a second. You're severely injured." But Winry was already moving toward the General.

"Show me your arm," Winry ordered, and she was surprised when Olivier complied without argument. She ripped open the tear in the uniform a little further so that she could put her hand inside and cover the General's wound with her palm. Olivier's blonde brows rose high and her lips parted in surprise. Winry briefly wondered what it felt like to have an injury heal so quickly.

"How did you—"

"There's no time to explain now," Winry cut her off. "There's no time now."

"Apparently I'm one of the ones they've marked as a sacrifice. I'll lend you all a quick hand, but then I'm going to get the hell out of here. I won't give him a chance to catch me."

"Where are the soldiers from Briggs?" Winry asked, turning to Izumi.

"They should be everywhere by now. We should have taken most of Central Headquarters by now."

"Then let's find them." She turned to Illumi, and he gave her an imperceptive nod. "Let's go."

They headed to the door, and Winry raised her hands up in front of her as they confronted another wave of mannequins. Olivier's technique was the closest to incapacitating the creatures as it was going to get. The first charged headlong at her, and Winry quickly sidestepped it before using her Nen to cut through its head, severing its skull from its lower mandible. Illumi made a small sound of approval, and they continued on.

"Fuhrer Bradley is coming to main gate!" a voice suddenly cried out down the hallway, and Winry's footsteps faltered.

He was _alive?_ Knowing what she did now, however, she realized she shouldn't feel as surprised as she did. She'd just experienced with Sloth how difficult it was to kill a homunculus — and the Fuhrer was one of them. One of the stronger ones too, from what Izumi had described. What would the remaining soldiers loyal to his cause do? Even if the Briggs soldiers had overrun the capitol, that didn't guarantee their success. And the worst part was that the Fuhrer didn't even need to win — he only needed to delay them long enough that they couldn't stop Father in time.

Cries and gunfire rose in the distance. Winry and Illumi both looked in that direction. Not a word passed between them, but they turned in that direction. The Fuhrer needed to be stopped.

_"They're sending another battalion up the shaft!"_

_"Just figure it out!"_

The cries echoed to them as they turned another corridor, and found themselves at a door. Winry drew her gun as they stepped through, and she found Ling facing Fuhrer Bradley. The Fuhrer clutched daggers in each of his hands and his eyepatch was gone. Winry could see his eye was whited out except for what looked almost like a red scar, shaped like a dragon. Fu was at Ling's side and, paces away, Winry saw a soldier from Briggs she recognized.

_"It's the M19 Mad Bear lightweight combat model! What kind of reinforcement is that on the claws? They're not diamond-tipped, are they?"_

_"Yeah. She's fully modified. It's a specially crafted model."_

It was Captain Buccaneer. A blade was run through his torso, and his automail arm had been ripped off. Wires and levers hung, dangling and exposed. While her Nen ability was specialized for close combat, she knew she was still an amateur. Someone like Bradley would have far more experience than she.

"That's the Fuhrer!" Winry said, pointing to him, and Illumi's eyes followed her finger. "Get a pin in him. I need to help the Captain."

While Bradley squared away against Ling and Fu, Winry crouched low and raced to Buccaneer's side. He looked up at her with surprise.

"You're Fullmetal's automail girl," he groaned. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help. We need to pull out the sword."

"I have to keep it in or I'll just bleed to death," he said with a shake of his head as he tried to sit upright.

"Trust me," Winry insisted, glancing over her shoulder as the sound of metal on metal rang out behind them. Fuhrer Bradley was fending off both Ling and Fu. Illumi was making his way around, but she knew that he'd need to the window to strike with his needles. "We need you. Let me pull out the sword." Buccaneer grimaced. He had no way to know what she was going to do, and she knew that. It would take too much time to explain otherwise though. She shoved his shoulder. "Do you trust me or not?"

"Do it." Winry knelt in front of him and wrapped her hands around the hilt. Buccaneer drew in a deep breath, then slammed his fist against the ground. "Do it!"

She pulled the sword out, trying to draw it straight so it wouldn't cause more damage than necessary. Buccaneer's face reddened at first then went ashen pale as he swallowed down his cries, instead beat his fist against the ground to stay silent. The blade was wet and shone with his blood. Winry laid it across her lap then ripped open his shirt, shoving her hand inside. The urgency coursed through her and into her Hatsu, and she could feel it explode through him like electricity. His body spasmed, and his eyes rolled back in his head while his jaw hung slack. Organs and tissue knitted themselves back together before he managed to draw in another breath. When he breathed, he collapsed forward on his hands and knees, knocking her down.

"W-What was that?" he demanded, still trembling from the agony.

She didn't answer, instead covering the housing unit on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Dread filled her; she was almost certain this wouldn't work. She'd never had the opportunity to even attempt it before. But everything she knew about her Nen type was ringing in her ears.

_Manipulators are the Nen users who can pour the most aura into an object, and often rely on a medium they have been utilizing for years. Manipulators can control living or non-living things._

His automail was part of him, as much as it would be if it were made from flesh and bone. And she knew the build — she'd studied the M19 series until she could have disassembled and reassembled it with her eyes covered. It was his.

Winry flooded the housing unit with Nen, holding her breath as she focused. Focused on rebuilding it.

Nothing happened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her hands. Her face flushed red as tears threatened to come, even though she knew it was the outcome she should have expected. How could she have created something from nothing? Even alchemy required equivalent exchange. "I can't bring back your automail."

"To Hell with it," Buccaneer snapped, taking a knee as he prepared to rise. The gleam in his eyes said everything — he was ready to fight again, even one-handed. His fingers suddenly snaked into her hair and he bent his head to hers, covering her lips with a bruising kiss before getting to his feet and taking the sword across her lap with him. Winry touched her lips in surprise, but the Captain was already stalking toward where the Fuhrer was fighting the others. Illumi had one of the Fuhrer's daggers, and was fighting to get close. Fu, though, stood before the Fuhrer, blood gushing from a slash across his stomach. Winry climbed to her feet, eyes darting to the Fuhrer, wondering if she had a chance at getting past him to pull Fu to safety—

A sword burst through Fu's stomach from behind, driving the old man forward, and thrusting the blade into Fuhrer King Bradley.

"The Philosopher's Stone might have given you the eyes of a God," Buccaneer panted, gripping the sword tightly in his fist from behind Fu. "But you can't dodge an attack if you can't see it coming."

Bradley raised his leg and landed a heavy kick against Fu's chest, throwing both men off him. Blood erupted from the wound and spilled down his white shirt, gleaming like garnets against a January snow. Ling's voice cried out, and Winry could only watch as he flew at the Fuhrer — then his arm transmuted into a blade, except it didn't have the silver gleam of steel. It looked like black carbon. But when had Ling gotten automail? There was a small spray of blood as Ling sliced Bradley's face — from the Fuhrer's eye.

The ground began to tremble, and Winry whipped around as blue lightning filled the sky, raising from the streets. What was that? Was the Promised Day beginning?

"Get a doctor!" Ling suddenly cried out, and she turned in the direction of his voice. He stood over where Fu laid, struck down. "Someone who knows how to use alchemy! Hurry! I've got a Philosopher's Stone! Use all that you want! Somebody please! Somebody! Is there nobody?"

Winry approached him slowly, and she found only desperation in his eyes when he met her gaze.

"Ling," she whispered, then looked down to Fu. Her eyes were bleary with tears as she knelt beside Fu's body. There were so many wounds... "I...I'll try."

"Our orders are to keep this gate from opening until we get the all clear from our general. Defend it!" Buccaneer shouted, turning to the rest of the Briggs soldiers remaining on the roof. He pointed at Ling. "Surely you can do that!"

"Lan Fan, stay with the men here — and Fu." Winry's eyes widened as Ling ripped off the sleeves of his jacket. He had no automail — but a wave of dark gray swept up his arms. Carbon. What had happened to Ling?! He looked at her. "Do what you can."

He turned his back on her, and the Briggs soldiers rushed to their posts. Illumi turned as if to follow Ling, leaving her with the dead man on the ground before her.

She could heal the wounds of the dead — she already knew that. Much of her initial experimentation had been in Izumi's shop. But life...If she couldn't bring back automail, then what chance did she have to bring back life?

She had to try.

Winry covered the wounds with her hands, and let her Nen repair them. As her aura flowed through him though, she knew he was gone. There would be nothing to bring back. But she reached anyway, using Nen to try to restart his heart.

The effort was in vain.

"I'm sorry, Ling," she whispered, suddenly feeling so alone.

Explosions ricocheted around them, and the remaining Briggs soldiers were fortifying the walls and stairway, Buccaneer among them. Overhead the moon was beginning to eclipse the sun. Had Ed and Al done it? Had they stopped the Promised Day from happening?

She wondered what her grandmother was doing right now. Whether Pinako Rockbell was outside on the porch, watching the sun with the same dread and anticipation she was feeling, or if she was inside working as though today was just another day. Where were Gracia and Elicia? Had they fled the country? Were they safe?

What was Hisoka doing right now?

What about Chrollo?

Winry lifted Fu's head to rest in her lap, and she wiped the blood from his brow. The skin underneath was unmarred, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Above them, the sky was almost black. Only a sliver of the sun remained. Her breath quickened in the wake of the approaching eclipse.

_The sun and the moon, the shadows and light reaching for each other. Then the night and light met in an eruption of flames._

Night fell.

The ground trembled.

Winry sat up straighter, holding Fu's body tight as she looked around the dark, quaking world. So they had failed. The Promised Day had come, no matter their efforts. People were screaming in the streets below. Black oil flooded up the stairwell, and swallowed her ankles then legs. She inhaled a sharp breath as it rose over her chest, tossing her head back to look up at the eclipse one last time.

_Edward.  
_

_Hisoka._


	45. The Promised Day (Part III)

The darkness slithered up her shoulders and around her neck. Winry shuddered under the sensation, losing the control over her breathing as she sucked down quick, panicked gasps of air. Then it slid across her chin, and the fear left. She took in one strong inhalation, gazing up at the eclipse with defiant eyes.

Then it swallowed her whole.

Winry flailed against it. She could feel tentacles wrapping around her ankles, and they began crawling up her legs. She kicked hard, struggling to loosen their grip but too afraid to open her eyes for what would happen if she did. Winry reached with her hands, trying to slash at the tentacles with Nen, but they wrapped themselves around her arms. One wrapped itself around her thigh, creeping higher and higher. She struggled, flinging herself backward and and writhing against its fierce grip in desperation. Then it reached higher, and Winry gasped reflexively, and the darkness filled her. She felt it snake into her mouth, down her throat, and she gagged. She couldn't breathe around it. Her entire body clenched against the invasion, and her eyes flew open.

She was floating in a shadow sea of bodies. She could see the silhouettes of people around her, writhing as the tentacles — shadowhands, she saw now — dragged them downward. Against her better judgment, Winry looked down. She tried to scream, but there was no air. Only darkness inside her. In her lungs. In her pores. In every orifice. She felt herself being pulled deeper into the pall, where bodies glowed in iridescent ruby. Her vision began to throb and grow dim around the edges. She couldn't do anything except focus on the other crimson bodies sinking below.

The pain began. Her lungs burned. Winry gasped for air, and found nothing. This was what suffocation felt like. She could feel the shadowhands squeezing tighter around her body, as though trying to rip her apart. The hand in her chest clutched something, and her body jerked.

Her soul, she realized with wonder. It was after her soul. The fuel for the Philosopher's Stone. She was inside Father. Was it too late for her? Were Ed and Al here too, or were they someplace else, still fighting? The thought gave her hope, and she strained her arms in a bid for freedom. The shadowhands held tight. She couldn't breathe — but she couldn't die. Not here.

A tremor shook her, and Winry flung her head around as screams filled the void. Shadowhands began dragging up bodies from the bottom, shining like beacons in the darkness, and as they were towed past her — back to the surface — Winry choked on the cry of horror in her throat. Their eyes were glazed over with a white film, mouths gaping like fish while the hands on them — inside them — pulled them back. She heard children crying.

Something rocked her again, shaking her body as though a bomb had gone off. The shadowhands holding her swayed before another explosion jolted through. What was happening? She struggled to see around her in the darkness, then light flared around her. A line of fire flared through the black, casting long shadows, and the hands gripping her loosened. Winry flung herself, twisting hard as explosion after explosion lurched through the flask — but with every flash of light, the hands around her strained to keep their grip.

Above, Winry heard new screams, and a hand wrapped around her leg released her so as to reach upward and drag more people — fresh souls — down. Another ricochet shook her, and another hand let go. Her arm was free. Winry slashed at the shadowhands gripping her other arm. This time her Nen cut through. She worked fast now, severing through the other hands holding her, and suddenly she was free. Winry kicked with her hands and feet, propelling herself to the nearest silhouette and began cutting them free. Shadowhands tried to grab her again, but she evaded them and then she and the other person were both free. She let herself sink a few feet down to someone else, working as hastily as she could. The shadowhands were flailing in the darkness, and all around her glowing people were disappearing.

She felt something brush against her from behind, and Winry twisted around, mouth opening in an 'O' of horror as she saw her grandmother, bound and eyes closed, being dragged deeper. Winry grabbed onto her grandmother's arm, slashing at the shadowhands to free her, before maneuvering the small woman onto her back. Far below, a glowing silhouette blinked away while another explosion rocked through.

They were being spent. The souls inside Father were being spent to protect the flask — which meant she needed to keep herself free from the shadowhands, so that she couldn't be taken as fuel. At the same time, the realization made hope swell in her chest. If Father was having to defend himself...If he was being besieged from the outside, then it meant...It meant—

_Edward._

Winry prayed.

Overhead, she heard new screams. Father was trying to draw in more souls — but from where? If the Promised Day had succeeded, if all of Amestris had been turned into fuel, then what could be left?

Light burst into the darkness, and Winry shied away from the unexpected brightness, gripping her grandmother tight — then she was suddenly being ripped upward again. Her grandmother was gone, and Winry sucked in a breath of air before pushing herself to her hands and knees weakly, coughing. The sun was warm on her back. Nearby, Captain Buccaneer was sitting up, and so were the Briggs soldiers.

Fu laid beside her still, unmoving.


	46. Her Power Could

"I have to say, Winry, I had higher expectations for my first apple pie," Al said, and Winry could only gape before she pulled herself together and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're lucky you're still recovering or I'd smack you for that," she warned, and behind her Ed laughed. Al laughed. She laughed, too, wrapping her arms around him.

He felt so frail, but warm. While she'd never had doubts that they'd meant it when they said they would get their bodies back, it was hard to believe the day had finally come. It had been so long since she'd seen Alphonse, it was startling to see how much he looked like Ed. They'd been mere children when this had all begun so many years ago. Winry pressed a kiss to Al's temple.

It was over now. Al had his body back, and Edward had regained his arm. She'd had to perform a surgery to go in and remove pieces of the housing unit that had somehow remained intact even after he had gotten his arm back, and he sat in a chair nearby with his shoulder bandaged now. It was bittersweet. She'd ended up feeling so much resentment for being taken for granted by Ed when it came to his automail, and now that half of it was gone she felt almost sad. He wouldn't be her greatest mechi accomplishment anymore.

"Fortunately for you," she continued, straightening her back, "I won't be baking anything else — and Gracia Hughes said she would bring her own by anyway."

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Winry glanced over her shoulder at Edward. His features were relaxed, but she saw his hand was balled into a fist. She felt a pang cut through her chest at the question. "I talked to Izumi...She said that you can't use alchemy after all."

"I can't," Winry admitted.

"Then what is it?"

Winry lowered her eyes, and Al glanced between them. She could read the confusion on his face — which meant Edward hadn't told him about what had happened. So Ed expected her to divulge everything in front of someone who didn't understand. Bitterness came with that thought, and it sharpened her senses.

"I learned it across the sea," Winry said, squaring her jaw as she turned to face him. "I have a mentor there. Izumi was teaching me to fight — not alchemy."

"I know that now," Ed admitted. "Izumi told me when everything was over. And I'm sorry, Winry, that you had to learn everything from her — about what was happening with the homunculus and the military. I shouldn't have tried to keep things from you, but I thought if you didn't know then I could keep you safe."

"I don't need you to keep me safe, Ed," Winry frowned. "I have people in my life who have made me strong — who've armed me. I could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you if I wanted."

His eyes dropped.

"Yeah. I heard all about what happened with Sloth, too. I guess I really underestimated you."

Winry said nothing as she strode across the room to him, and flattened her palm on the shoulder she'd done the surgery on. Ed's golden eyes stayed fixated on her face as she healed him, using Nen to manipulate the muscles, tendons, and capillaries back together — the way she'd considered doing while she'd had him on the table, but then decided against once she considered his previous reaction. Now, however, she felt only immense satisfaction as the expression on Edward's face changed to wonder. She could show him the damage her power could do, too...But part of her still wasn't willing to taint the vision he had of her. Not like that.

"I'm leaving Central tonight," Winry said as her hand fell away. Ed was looking at his shoulder with wonder.

"I wish you wouldn't go," Al said, sitting up slightly. "Do you need to leave so soon?"

Winry went to Al's hospital bed and leaned over to embrace him, smiling sadly into his hair. Ed's arm went around her shoulder and he pressed his head against hers. She closed her eyes, not wanting to move. Knowing that she _could_ stay...That _they_ could stay like this for the rest of their lives. Ed couldn't use alchemy anymore — he was but a man now. She could choose to never touch Nen again. She'd already shipped the parts for Hisoka's automail overseas, with instructions for Dr. Hirano on installation in case she never made it back to Tentai after the Promised Day. She and Ed could have a quiet, simple life...if she were willing to forget all that had happened. If she could forget how he'd made her feel for so long. If she pushed all that down and never let it surface again.

She could forgive him.

But she couldn't forget.

Winry reluctantly drew away, and both brothers saddened. Edward didn't look at her.

"There's no place for me here anymore," she whispered. Then she laid her palm on Al's head before turning to Edward and tapping him under his chin with her knuckle. "Be happy for me, Ed."

She didn't look back as she left their room, letting the door quietly snick shut behind her. Down the hall, sitting on a chair outside General Armstrong's room, Captain Buccaneer sat up a little straighter; she had outfitted him with another M19 earlier in the morning, diamond tips and all. He'd asked her to stay as well. Winry gave him a smile from where she stood, then turned to Illumi, leaning against the wall. Waiting.

"How was my grandmother?"

"She's well. She was displeased that you didn't come yourself though," Illumi said. "She gave me crates of equipment to bring back to Tentai with you — to establish an automail business."

"I don't know if home is ready for automail yet." The corner of her lips tugged upward in a small smile, and she nearly laughed. Ready or not, Hisoka was waiting to be the first. And Chrollo was waiting in Yorknew City. Winry shouldered her bag. "It's time to go."

* * *

_This seems like an appropriate and timely place to take a little intermission.  
_ _I'll be taking a couple days to binge watch the new season of Lucifer  
_ _and to finish putting together some cosplays I'm making.  
_ _Check out my Instagram or TikTok to see what's up in the meantime._

_. : nutellaismymiddlename : ._


	47. Quite the Demonstration

It took the Heavens Arena attendants making two trips with six trolleys to get all of her grandmother's crates upstairs.

Taking it to Hisoka's suite was the logical decision. There was too much equipment for her to store in her employee quarters, and she would need access to most of it to perform the amputation and installation. She didn't give him a courtesy of a warning, instead just leading the attendants upstairs to the 200th floor. When they'd seen whose suite they were going to, the men had exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing while she knocked.

Hisoka opened the door. She could tell he had just showered; his hair was wet and hung around his face. His arched brows rose in surprise as amber eyes scanned the sight of their small party outside his doorway. A smile crossed his lips.

"Hmh. Come in then," he said, stepping aside.

Winry passed him and the attendants followed obediently before unloading the first set of crates in the corner, working together to get the heavy boxes off the trolleys without dropping them. Silence hung between Winry and Hisoka while they watched the men work, until the attendants left to bring up the next set.

"Illumi said you gave quite the demonstration," Hisoka said at last, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "I'm jealous."

"Then you can sleep well tonight knowing that I still didn't give Edward a full demonstration," she countered as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Still afraid of what your alchemist might do if he were to see you for the monster you are?"

She wanted to balk. To argue about the merits of his accusation. But instead Winry bit her tongue, holding her scathing retorts back. For all the things he was — for all of his perceptiveness — Hisoka wasn't a person who had the depth to be capable of understanding something like this. Here, he was as shallow as his sink.

Instead of responding, Winry turned her back on him and sat down in one of the armchairs. It was the same one she'd sat in when she'd first been invited to his room — the night he had faced Kastro for the very first time. The tear was still there from where he'd thrown her appointment card back at her. The material had begun to fray. She ignored the impulse to touch it.

"I'm surprised you decided to come back."

Winry glanced at Hisoka. "Why?"

"I thought for certain that your alchemist would convince you that you should stay."

"He didn't ask," she said, looking elsewhere.

Ed hadn't had to ask, and even if he had asked her outright she still would've said no. It had cut so deep to say goodbye, but it would've hurt her more if she had stayed. She would've had to quash a part of who she was — and Nen was a part of who she was now, whether she wanted to admit that or not. She'd believed, not so long ago, that Nen had destroyed her life. After what happened in Central though, she realized that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Are you ready for me to take your arm?" Winry asked.

"I am." He leaned his head back to look upward, his lips curving upward in a dreamy smile. "I had one more fight to fulfill after you left."

"You seem to have fared no worse for it."

"He isn't ready to fight on my level yet, but I had promised him the opportunity. He will be worthwhile one day. Much like you." Hisoka leered at her from the corner of his eye. "Especially since you're getting less shy about it."

"Push me," Winry warned as there was a knock on the door, "and I'll amputate more than your arm."

The door opened and the attendants entered with the next set of crates. Neither of them spoke while the crates were unloaded from the trolleys, and Winry handed them each a tip as they left then shut and locked the door behind them.

"So tell me what you plan to do to me," Hisoka taunted, putting his hands on his hips while Winry grabbed the crowbar off the crate Illumi had attached it to. "And please be graphic."

"The first thing I'm going to do is sedate you so that you'll leave me alone long enough to breathe," Winry murmured under her breath, shoving the end of the crowbar between the wooden planks of the crate and straining to pry them apart. "And then I'm going to cut out your tongue so you stay quiet."

"That's not very sportsmanlike," Hisoka tsked. "Leave me awake while you do it, I'll even let you take my arm first — but you have to give me a fighting chance, mink."

"I don't have to give you shit," Winry grunted, then let out a shout as she shoved on the crowbar. A _crack_ shook the air and she stumbled forward, nearly falling as the it gave way. Hisoka remained unmoving behind her. Merely watching with amusement. "Maybe I'll take both your arms since you don't use them," she murmured.

"Not unless you have automail for both," was his retort.

"Luckily for you, that can be arranged now." Winry pried open the other corner, which came much easier than the first. "My grandmother sent me back with everything I need, start to finish. Machining, assembly, connecting, and finishing."

"So this is your plan?" Hisoka asked. "You intend to start the first Heavens Arena automail business?"

She wasn't sure whether he was mocking her or not, but Winry didn't look at him as she yanked off the lid and leaned it against the wall to peer inside. The crate had been filled with hay as a buffer for travel; there was no easy way to dig through it without making a mess. But, then again, this was his suite — not hers. And if he wanted his automail installed then he could deal with the repercussions. Winry scooped out an armful and dropped it on the floor.

"Now, now, is that necessary?" His brows rose when she met his gaze, her own expression a defiant challenge as she pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the crate and swung her legs over, then dropped in. She shoved another pile of hay out.

"Unless you have a better way of doing it."

"I might, if you'll concede to doing it my way."

Winry hesitated, and his shadow fell over her, looming above. He offered her a hand. She hesitated some more then reluctantly accepted. He pulled her up easily, and she used the equipment in the crate to assist her ascent. She jumped down, ignoring Hisoka's outstretched arm to steady herself on.

Winry brushed the hay off her clothes and stood aside as Hisoka left. She realized, quickly, that this was the first time she'd ever been alone in his space. It was the first time she'd ever had the opportunity to look around, unpressurized by his constant observation.

It was void of any sort of personal stamp, however. At least on the surface. There were no photos — not that she had expected any — trinkets, or trophies. There were a few books on a shelf by the television, which Winry bent to study. They were histories about the continents though, from what she could tell. She dared a peek in his closet after she'd armed herself with En in case he returned unexpectedly; only clothes, and a small overnight bag that was empty.

She wondered, for the briefest of moment, what Chrollo's suite looked like in comparison.

Winry resigned to waiting in the armchair until he returned and, when he did, he carried a roll of thick plastic in his arms. Hisoka said nothing as he began to clear furniture out of the way, moving it all to the far corner of the room, and Winry joined him unceremoniously in the task. Once that was done, he rolled out a layer across the carpet to protect it — then used his Bungee Gum to lift the crates one-by-one so he could slide the plastic beneath them, too.

"Now you may continue," he invited at last, and Winry rolled her eyes before opening the crate from the side. Hay spilled out, and Winry fished through it with her hands to find the contents. She dug out her welding helmet, then found the corners of the multi-process welding machine. Hisoka helped her lift it out of the hay and set it along the wall.

They continued through the rest of the crates one at a time. She found gallons of mineral oil, grinders, drills with every bit she'd ever used, and some she hadn't. Two exam tables. They set things up around the room as they unpacked, so that everything would be in place for when she was ready to do his procedure.

"So what have you named your Hatsu?" Hisoka asked, taking the crowbar from her.

"Named it?"

"Yes. I have my Bungee Gum and Texture Surprise. Machi has her Nen Stitches. What do you call what you do? So that I may refer to it appropriately, henceforth." He cracked open the crate with an ease that left her feeling envious.

"I hadn't thought about it."

"You should. There's a level of showmanship I expect to see."

Winry rolled her eyes at him and ducked past, searching until she felt cool metal under her hands. It was a quenching vat. She rolled it out carefully. Hisoka was moving to the next crate, but Winry took the crowbar from his hands with a scowl.

He smirked. "Hmh."

"I wasn't really concerned with your opinion," Winry said, wedging the crowbar in and putting all her weight into it, only to become more deeply annoyed when she struggled to get it to budge.

Hisoka stepped behind her, almost flush to her, and covered her hands with his to help. She began to turn, to tell him to get away, but he was already prying it open. Winry scowled at him then turned to the crate. Winry backed-pedaled away as quickly as her feet would allow, slamming into Hisoka as she did. One of his arms went around her chest to steady her while he covered her mouth with his other hand, stifling her startled cry.

"Your heart," he moaned in her ear. She breathed raggedly behind his hand. "I can feel its ardent excitement. This pleases you then, doesn't it."


	48. Permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: If you have any triggers, please do not read the next two chapters. Instead please return when Chapter 50 is published.

**Trigger Warning**

_If you have any triggers, please do not read the next two chapters. Instead please return when Chapter 50 is published._

* * *

Winry felt her knees going weak beneath her, but Hisoka's arm kept her on her feet. He was whispering in her ear, coaxing her through her shock.

_"Look. What you desire most is in front of you, yours to take. Don't be afraid — feel past fear. Feel deeper than that. Feel what you want. Take it."_

She sucked in a shaky breath and held it, letting it fortify her. This was what she'd wanted. Her reaction was merely the depth of her surprise; she hadn't been prepared. But that didn't make her want it any less. Here, with it in front of her, she longed for it all the more. Winry's fingers curled, the way they did whenever she was faced with something she desired. Her heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. She felt Hisoka's lips curve in a smile against her hair and he dropped his arms from around her.

Scar stared up at her from inside the crate, his red eyes blazing with defiance. There was a strip of cloth wrapped around his mouth to secure a gag. He was naked from the waist up although she could immediately tell he'd lost some of his muscle density. Both of his arms were bandaged from wrist to shoulder. There were iron loops bore into the crate that shackles ran through to restrict his movement.

"How?" Winry asked breathlessly.

"When Illumi went to visit your grandmother, I had him run a side errand. And you don't need to fear this man's retaliation — Illumi flayed his tattooed skin. He can't perform alchemy anymore."

"I thought he died?"

"Illumi said the woman from Briggs was smuggling him."

"How did Illumi catch Scar with his guard down though?" she asked, then waved her question away with one hand. Winry dropped to her knees untied the cloth around his face. Scar spat out the gag, glaring up at her. "How were you captured?"

"They disguised themselves as the General," Scar snarled, "using dark magic."

His voice was hoarse and dry. Winry wondered when the last time was he'd had something to drink. It'd been a three week journey from Amestris to Heavens Arena — how had Scar even survived? Hisoka answered, as though reading her mind.

"I told Illumi to take good care of him. He didn't want to eat or drink, or take antibiotics, but Illumi has ways of making people be compliant."

"Why would you do this?" Winry glanced up at Hisoka. He was still smiling. "Why?"

"Because you wanted it," he offered simply, extending his hands in front of him, palms facing upward. "You need it. The alchemist kept limiting you, shaming you into behaving how he wanted." She met his amber eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering in his calm. "I'm bored by this mask you wear for him."

"Don't do it, girl," Scar growled beside her. "I see you've had no part in this until now. Do not make me your enemy."

"The alchemist is _gone,"_ Hisoka cajoled. "Amestris is behind you. You've been restrained by fear of judgement. _I_ will neither judge nor restraint you."

"Release me and you'll be no worse for it. I'll handle this backbiter on both our behalves, Rockbell girl."

Winry turned, focusing her aura entirely in her arm before backhanding Scar. His head snapped to the side, and his eyes darkened with rage as blood dripped from his nose. She heard Hisoka breathe a sigh of ecstasy.

"I don't need you to do anything on my behalf," Winry whispered, her hands quaking. She clenched them into fists to steady them and she faced him fully, squatting low. His gaze was cold and remorseless.

"So this is your decision," Scar said, his voice a low rumble. "Then draw your gun and finish it."

Her gun. Winry touched the small of her back and felt the holster. Wonder of wonders, her gun was fucking gone. She glared back at Hisoka, and he gave her an impish smile before taking it from God knew where and holding it out to her. She snatched it back before facing Scar once more. His crimson eyes widened ever so slightly as she loosed the cylinder and dumped the bullets onto the ground. They clattered unceremoniously around her feet, then she flung the gun into a corner.

 _"Once I teach you more, you'll never need it again,"_ Hisoka had said so long ago. How true that had turned out to be lately. Perhaps she gave him less credit than was due.

This was the man who killed her parents. The person who had taken her family away, making it so they would never return home to her again. They had helped him and he had still killed them.

"You think I need a gun to kill you?" Winry scoffed as she rose. "You think I would show you mercy after what you did to my parents? I told you when we were in the north that there were two sides to this coin — but you only deserve one."

She paused. Not hesitated; only paused. Hisoka's breath was warm on her neck. Winry felt his fingertips slide down her arms. Her eyes closed as she savored the moment. How many times had this opportunity slipped through her fingers?

"Thank you, Hisoka," she whispered. "Help me get him on the table."

Hisoka was eager to assist. His smile never faltered as he freed Scar's wrists and ankles from their shackles. Scar didn't hesitate to use his size and weight, despite his injuries. He attempted to grab Hisoka around the waist and tackle him to the ground. Hisoka took an unsteady step backward under the Ishvalan's brute force, but Winry ducked behind the men and secured her arm around Scar's throat, using her other hand as leverage before sliding it up to tighten her hold. She focused her aura into her arms and feet, increasing the pressure as she fixated her stance. Hisoka didn't interfere — he knew she didn't need his help with this. He'd taught her himself, after all. Scar struggled to throw her off, but her hold didn't break, and it was starting to take affect. He went down to one knee. Hisoka put one of Scar's arms around his shoulders and Winry mirrored him, her heart hammering in her chest from the adrenaline as they carried him, feet dragging, to the operation table.

This was why Hisoka had begun setting up the room as they'd unpacked, she realized. It hadn't been for his amputation.

He could be a gentleman after all.

Hisoka retreated to his bedroom and Winry watched through the doorway as he dug through a drawer — drawers she'd neglected to explore during her brief perusal — and drew out a length of rope. She said nothing, focusing on keeping Scar pinned down to the table in case he came back to, as Hisoka returned to her side and began to bind the Ishvalan down. His fingers worked deftly, weaving into what she recognized as a square knot that she used ofttimes at Atelier Garfiel. He took a knife from the waist of his pants and cut the extra length. He moved to Scar's other arm, then worked his way down to secure his feet. Scar's deep, steady breathing stirred. His fist clenched, and she saw his muscles flex and strain under his bandages.

"I made a mistake killing your parents, girl," Scar snarled, his eyes darting around momentarily before he found her. "Your death will not be the same."

"You won't be killing anyone else," she whispered back. "You didn't deserve the leniency that you've been given. That's a mistake I won't make again, too."

Winry delicately began to unwind the bandages around his arms — one, then the other — and he let out an agonized cry as they stuck to his wounds before coming off under her touch. Perhaps if she'd had less medical experience, the sight would've turned her stomach. And there was a sensation in her gut, but it was far from revulsion.

Illumi's work was less than perfect, but it was less messy than Winry had prepared herself for. Scar's skin had been carved away from wrist to shoulder, down to the muscle — but then again, that's how it would've had to be in order to remove his tattoos. The crimson of his muscles was deep, like wine, and she watched with fascination as they twitched reflexively as she peeled the bandages off them. The texture from the wrapping left the faintest imprint. His arms looked like dried meat, streaked with white fat — though little of it. She could see the fibers. She could see where Illumi's blade had gouged deeper than other areas. Winry wondered whether Scar had been unconscious while Illumi had cut him. She wondered what it had looked like wet. Scar's cries of pain crescendoed as she exposed his flayed flesh to the air.

So same yet so different than when she had butchered alongside Izumi. It looked so similar to other meat — and that's really what it was, wasn't it? Meat. But all the meat she'd processed hadn't been alive and moving for her to study.

Hisoka's smile deepened.

"Until one of us dies," Winry said, mesmerized, "this chain of hatred will continue. You told me that, didn't you?"

"I'll kill you!" he gasped, and light shone off the blood from his broken nose that glossed his lips and chin. "I'll fucking kill you."

She shook her head.

"No. You gave me permission to do this. You even told me I was justified."

She couldn't restrain herself any longer. Winry reached out and ran her fingertips down his flayed arm. Scar's red eyes bulged and he bit his lower lip hard to keep from screaming. Her pulse quickened. The sight of him...the way his spine arced off the table, how the veins in his forehead popped, how the light gleamed off the blood streaking his mouth...It set her teeth.

She'd never seen a more perfect sight in her life.

He flailed wildly, as though he thought he could flip the table if he struggled hard enough, but it would take far more than this to upend it. Winry turned her head to look at the equipment tray that stood ready beside her. The waiting instruments gleamed under the ceiling lights. Hisoka had been preparing for this all along, she saw. Scalpels, swabs, syringes. Then a mallet, osteotome, nibblers, clamps, cauterizing tool, and two saws. One manual, one electric. The electric certainly hadn't come from her grandmother's crates; he'd snuck it in at one point while she was distracted. She'd never used an electric saw before — so how considerate of him to have provided both.

"Kill me then," Scar snapped as he settled, then he sucked in a deep breath. "Or do you lack the mettle."

"You misunderstand." The fingers of her right hand closed around the handle of the manual saw, then she tapped the tip of the jagged blade against her lips thoughtfully. "I plan to take my time."

She covered his forearm with her left and Scar's breathing seized. Winry inhaled, memorizing what the texture of his exposed flesh felt like under her skin. Smooth and warm, every band of muscles quivering under her firm grasp. She looked up to see Hisoka leaning against the wall across from her. Watching her intently. His amber eyes were narrow and his tongue was in the corner of his lips. She could feel the trickles of bloodlust crawling across her skin, enveloping her — and she came to the tertiary realization that it was her own, not his. Winry lowered the toothed blade of the saw to Scar's wrist, inhaled, then dug in.

She didn't see Hisoka move but, before blood even began to flow, his hand clamped down over Scar's mouth to muffle the Ishvalan's scream. Winry sucked in a breath, a shiver traveling down her spine, then she slid the saw again. The tissue gave way to the blade, and the saw cut through his flesh effortlessly. It was entrancing to watch the dried meat split and reveal the moist, wet tissue underneath before his blood welled up and swallowed the blade. Scar spasmed on the table. His raw, exposed muscles bunched as he struggled primally against his bonds. The sounds he made — that guttural, throaty howl — made her sigh. Hisoka reached across the table, of Scar's quaking body, and his nails raked down her cheek. Grounding her. She drew back her elbow, pulling the saw deeper, before putting all her strength behind pushing through once more.

She struck bone.

The sound of the blade's teeth against it stole her breath. Scar's face went ashen and his red eyes rolled up in his head before the agony dragged him into unconsciousness. Winry didn't let that deter her as she cut through his wrist. If this were a patient, someone she wanted to save, she would pause to clamp the veins and arteries. She would have cauterized tissue. Instead, as the blade of the saw was relieved of the bone, Winry laid it aside and took the scalpel in hand instead. She bent close, inhaling the sharp, pungent scent of his blood, as she cut through the rest of his wrist until his hand came off in hers.

Hisoka chuckled low in his throat as she held the limb up by its pointer finger, studying it briefly. She stared at the thick circle of marrow at the heart of the bone before laying the appendage back on the table and then finally picking up clamps.

She couldn't have him bleeding out already, after all.

"The body's defense mechanisms against pain can be such a bore," Hisoka drawled, resting his elbows on the other side of the table then cradling his chin in his palms, looking up at her with an almost boyish smile. "Do you want to wait for him to wake up to continue?"

Winry stuck out her lower lip and blew to puff up her bangs.

"I'd rather he be awake, but this will do."

"Then keep going," he urged. "I'll wake him before the end."

Hisoka remained there as she wiped her hands and the handle of the saw off on a towel so that her grip wouldn't slip as she rested the blade against the inside of his elbow and made her next cut.

For all the people Scar had killed, for all the lives he'd ruined, this was better than he deserved. Not just her own, but for everyone. For all the State Alchemists whose families had an empty place at their table now. For all the military who had hunted him and failed. There wasn't enough blood in his body to fill the hole in all those hearts.

_Ed._

Her hand faltered in its motion. Hisoka's brows rose. Winry inhaled sharply, turning her head away from the scene in front of her and closing her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Don't." Hisoka's voice was beside her ear. "Come back. You belong _here,_ mink. Not there." His hand covered hers, burning hot and reinforcing her grip on the handle. Winry let him guide her arm through the motion; she let his strength make the next cut. The heat of his body blazed up her spine, and she felt his erection brush against the small of her back. She leaned her head back against his chest in her moment of weakness, to drink in his strength. _"This_ is what you were meant to do."

His reassurance filled her. Winry took control back, driving the saw through then withdrawing again rhythmically. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her grip as the muscles and tendons separated, losing their anchor under her hand. Another slice and his forearm fell away from his body. She was vaguely aware that Scar wasn't bleeding out, even though she hadn't clamped him. She pulled herself together enough to focus her aura in her eyes, and she saw Hisoka had used his Bungee Gum to do it for her. He used his foot to nudge hers toward the head of the table, and Winry allowed her body to follow suit. Up to Scar's shoulder.

She would pick him apart, limb by limb.

She'd amputated a few limbs before, but not like this. Before it had always been...detached. Professional. She had always viewed the bodies as people she needed to save. She'd taken every precaution, had worked with the utmost precision and care. Every time she had a body on a table it was someone whose life she was determined to improve.

But not now.

Cutting through his shoulder was harder than his wrist and elbow, and Hisoka leaned into it with her to force the saw through.

Their hands were slick with Ishvalan blood.

Feeling his arm sever from his shoulder left her panting. Hisoka took her by the hand and led her around to the other side of the table to repeat the process — to relieve Scar's body entirely of the limbs that had caused so much agony. After they severed this hand, Winry paused to lay her palm flush against Scar's, staring at how much larger his was than hers. This hand had been the root of so much destruction. Pain.

Never again.

With every cut Winry felt blood splatter her arms. Her cheeks. Her tongue snaked out and she tasted his copper on her lips. Every breath she inhaled seemed deeper than the last. They were at Scar's other shoulder now; the last cut to make. Hisoka withdrew his hand from over hers. She suddenly felt cold.

"I'll wake him," Hisoka said.

His hand reached around her, and Winry watched wordlessly as he flicked the cap off a hypodermic needle then sank it into the thick muscle of Scar's leg. A heartbeat passed, and Scar's eyes slowly flickered open. They were glazed over, and Winry could see he wouldn't last long. Unconsciousness was already vying for claim over him again. She would need to hurry.

She bent to whisper in his ear. The lengths of her blonde hair dragged through the pool of blood surrounding his motionless body as she did. Winry closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his temple.

"Do you still think I lack the mettle?" she whispered.

She slowly withdrew away, stealing a peek at Scar's face. His lips were blue and they quivered; whether he was struggling to form his last words, or merely trembling from shock, she would never know. Winry felt a knot of tension in her chest relax as she cupped his jaw with one blood soaked hand while the other found the smooth handle of the saw.

She had the grit. She felt something else within her blossoming, intertwining itself into those strong roots — creating a firm anchor. One that could never be dug out. Not even by Edward. The weight on her shoulders lifted, and Winry let the teeth of the saw rip through him.

Scar's eyes bulged, but his body was too weak — too drained of blood — to resist. His blood streaked jaw trembled in her grasp. She was only vaguely aware of Hisoka holding Scar's arm down, stabilizing it for every slice. For every tear. When she met bone again, she extended her aura into the saw's blade. His red eyes were going glassy. His breathing was weak — shallow — as his arm was severed from his body.

Winry didn't dare look away as Hisoka relieved the Ishvalan of the Bungee Gum that was preventing him from bleeding out. Scar's shallow heartbeat purged him of what blood remained. Weak sanguine geysers spurted from his limbless shoulders, raining across her hands and dotting Winry's face. She heard it pitter-patter like rain across the plastic underfoot.

Hisoka's fingers snaked into her hair from behind, and Winry let him take her weight as she leaned into him. The nails of his other hand dug into her hips. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a feral animal, and for a moment she wondered if the fragile cage was strong enough to contain it. She tilted her head back against his chest while her bloodstained hand touched his jaw, leaving crimson prints across his porcelain skin. There were already flecks of Scar's blood on his cheeks. Her touch was a wordless, desperate plea. His amber eyes gleamed — predatory, hungry, and salacious — as he bent his head.

"This will be violent, mink," Hisoka warned in a hoarse whisper.

Winry nodded her consent.


	49. The Blood That Had

Winry nodded her consent, and she gasped aloud as his hands gripped her shoulders, forcing her down to her knees. The overflow of Scar's blood that had spilled onto the floor soaked through the knees of her pants. Hisoka's grip on her hair tightened, yanking her head back with one hand as he freed his cock. There was no preface as he pressed the head against her lips. Winry opened her mouth and he stepped forward, driving his cock to the back of her throat. She gagged, choking, as he grinded his hips against her face before withdrawing and penetrating again, pulling her forward by the hair to meet the impact. Winry pressed her hands against his legs to balance herself as he fucked her mouth, struggling to breathe around his thickness. Her eyes watered, but she didn't try to stop him. She didn't want him to stop. The struggle felt like reprieve rather than suffering. Like the weight on her shoulders was lifting. Hisoka pulled out of her mouth and tugged her head back so she looked up at him. He let go with one hand so that he could run a finger down her cheek and under her chin, tilting her face further before he struck her.

She sucked in a sharp breath as heat blossomed across her cheek before the sensation of pins and needles set in. He'd caught her off-guard, and she gave no resistance when he pressed his palm against her sternum and pushed her flat on her back. The floor beneath her was wet and tacky. Hisoka laid his body over hers, with her head between his knees so he could pin her arms to her sides with his hands.

"Take it," he crooned, but her lips were already parting to let him in when the smoothness of his head rubbed against her mouth.

Winry's fingers curled helplessly, grabbing at the plastic beneath her for any sort of purchase, as Hisoka stroked into her mouth. The rhythm he set had her lifting her hips off the floor even as she gasped for oxygen and tears trickled down her face. His hold on her arms tightened, and his pace intensified. She heard his moans. His face leaned against her leg, and Winry could feel the heat of his breath. She wanted him to touch her desperately. Her body writhed beneath him.

He came.

His hips bucked as he did, and she tasted his warm cum at the back of her throat. Hisoka squeezed her arms hard enough to bruise before he gradually withdrew from her mouth. Winry's legs trembled and she sucked in a deep breath as he began to push himself off her — but she wrapped her legs around his torso, using his momentum to flip him over her so he landed on his back. She spotted the extra rope on the floor beside the surgical table, and quick as a wink Winry snatched it and began to bind his wrists flush together in a double-column tie. She wasn't sure if she succeeded because she'd caught him off-guard, or because he let her, but Hisoka smirked up at her regardless while she kicked off her boots then peeled her _togi_ pants off. The blood that had soaked through the material made them cling to her legs.

Hisoka's tongue slid across his lips.

She knelt with a knee on either side of his head, and he eagerly craned his neck upward to slide his tongue through the dampness of her cunt. It was her turn to moan. Winry's head fell forward as she shut her eyes, letting herself just feel as he devoured her. His tongue explored, plunging inside her before flattening against her clit.

Her back arched and she put a hand behind her, on Hisoka's chest, to steady herself as her legs trembled as she drew closer and closer to climax. He put his hands to her back, pushing on her spine so she lost her balance and sat on his face. Winry let out a stammered cry — and Hisoka's tongue stilled.

"Wh—"

A glance down at him and she knew he'd edged her intentionally. Winry's eyes narrowed and she shifted herself off so she sat on his chest, her hands squeezing tightly into a fist before she struck him. His amber eyes widened.

"Do it again," he whispered.

She was happy to oblige. Hisoka's head slammed to the other side, and he looked back up at her with a broadening grin.

_"Harder."_

Winry punched him again, and his lip cracked under the force. Blood spilled from the wound and trickled down his cheek. She was helpless to resist the urge that came over her as she ducked her head and dragged her tongue along the river of blood.

He gave a strong shrug of his shoulders, shifting her forward and forcing her to using her hands to catch herself. Quick as a cat, he slid out from beneath her. Winry felt the heat of his body at her back as she sat up right before he brought his bound hands down over her head. She gasped as he used the ropes she'd secured him with to choke her. His erection pressed against her back.

She tried driving herself backward into him to throw him off-balance, but her attempt only made him chuckle low in her ear before he forced her forward to the surgical table and Scar's remains.

"Cut the ropes," he commanded.

Winry reached out, fumbling, struggling to focus enough to use Nen before she managed to drag her fingers across the jute rope still anchoring Scar's ankles, and it cut cleanly under her touch. He moaned.

"I can't wait to watch you fight," Hisoka whispered. "I'm so _envious_ that Illumi did."

He bumped the table hard with his hip, and Scar's body tumbled off. The corpse hit the ground with a lifeless thud. Winry didn't have the opportunity to react as Hisoka raised his arms, releasing her from the chokehold but freeing his bound hands. He fisted them in the back of her shirt and yanked it up over her head, stripping her naked, before he shoved her onto the table. Scar's blood had cooled, and she grabbed onto the sides to prevent herself from slipping off the slick surface.

"Now mine."

She felt bare and exposed lying on the surgical table, looking up at him as he extended his wrists out to her. But he was looking down at her as though she were the most beautiful creature in the world, naked and waiting for him in a pool of their enemy's blood. Her heart was a wild creature, fighting for freedom from its cage as she reached out and cut his ropes.

Hisoka tugged off his shirt in one smooth motion before shucking off his pants. Her next breath caught in her lungs. She'd known Hisoka was muscle-bound and strong, but she had spent so long being reviled by his presence and his warnings against provoking him that she doubted she'd ever truly looked at him. Not the way she was now. He stood before her utterly unabashed, his perfect form flecked and smudged with blood. Scar's blood. He'd delivered the Ishvalan to her and they'd shared the kill. Her fingers curled. He smirked.

"Hmh."

He shoved her down flat on the table as he climbed on top of her. She ran her palms down his chest, her fingertips exploring every ravine with eagerness, as he spread her legs open. Winry exhaled a trembling breath as he pressed the head of his cock against her, then her eyes closed in bliss as he slowly — painstakingly so — slid in.

Her grip on the table tightened as he began to fuck her, plunging deep before withdrawing to do it again. Their mutual, fervent need grew tangible as her knuckles whitened. She was no novice; sex was something she enjoyed, and didn't deny herself from partaking when the need came upon her. But _this..._ Her face turned to one side, and she felt the tackiness of Scar's blood against her cheek. She moaned, digging her nails into Hisoka's shoulders. _This_ was forbidden fruit from the highest branch that she'd never imagined, and it was sweeter than she would have ever dreamt it tasted.

The fingers of his right hand wrapped around her throat, not crushing her windpipe but applying pressure to her blood flow. Her right carotid artery. He'd done this to her before — she hadn't appreciated it nearly so much back then. Only seconds needed to pass before her head began to throb and spin, and the dizziness only amplified the feeling of what his cock was doing to her. She was close. So _close._

 _"No,"_ she whimpered as he pulled out and released her throat, and the orgasm she'd been on the verge of eked away.

Winry let go of the table and slammed her elbow into his face out of frustration. He groaned, throwing his head back before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her head into the table. Her vision went white with fireworks — she cried out as he thrust himself in her to the hilt, their hips grinding together, but she wouldn't let him have the last word. Winry raked her nails down his chest.

Hisoka let out a shout of agony and gratification as she used her Hatsu against him, her fingers cutting open his skin. Blood swelled up and began dripping across her s and torso. He bent his head, his tongue catching drops of his own blood before twirling around her nipple. Winry ran her bloodstained fingers up into his hair. His teeth closed around the softness of her breast and bit. She jackknifed in his arms, yanking on his hair as she did, but his jaw stayed locked. There was a wicked gleam in his amber eyes as he met his gaze, taunting her as a line of her own blood trickled from his mouth before he opened his teeth. Winry slapped him, this time her aura focused into her hand as she did. The table rocked as Hisoka teetered precariously for a moment before he flashed her a broad smile, his teeth tinted red.

He locked one hand around her throat while the other snaked between her legs, his fingers spreading her open so he could thrust his cock inside her again, without any attempt to be gentle. She grabbed onto his broad shoulders, digging her nails in as he fucked her hard, hips slamming into hers while the hand between her legs played with her clit. His fingers were wet — a glance down and she saw they were stained red, and she _knew_ whose blood it was. The sight alone was _almost_ enough to send her over the edge. But, with the spinning of her head and the throbbing of her , and the way he stroked inside her, it was more than she needed.

Winry arced off the table, crying out his name as the orgasm she'd been desperate for crashed through her body. Every nerve was ablaze as wave after wave echoed through her. He covered her mouth with his, their tongues tangling together violently, and she tasted blood. She bit his lower lip — he rubbed her clit in return, and sent her shuddering into the abyss again.

She collapsed back when the last tremors had run out of her, breathing ragged and unsteady. Hisoka was panting over her, and his grin was utterly wicked. He dipped his head, his tongue running a trail from her collar bone to her ear, before whispering—

_"Hmh. I haven't finished yet,_ _mink."_

* * *

Please do not experiment with BDSM without understanding the safety risks involved. I am an active member of the BDSM community, am fully informed regarding what is SSC, as well as rope play, blood play, and RACK. Some elements of what would normally happen during a scene have been removed for fluidity of the chapter. Do not attempt at home if you and your partner are unexperienced.


	50. Consume All

Her reflection had never held her interest before now. Standing in front of the mirror in Hisoka's bathroom, with the morning light pouring through the windows of his suite, she found herself enraptured by it.

Winry turned this way and that, surveying the final result breathlessly — although she wondered whether that was a side effect of what she was almost certain was a cracked rib. Her blonde hair was streaked burgundy with dried blood, and she had no way to know where it transitioned from her blood to Hisoka's, then to Scar's. The hollows of her cheeks were bruised and her throat was adorned with a necklace handprint. Her body looked as battered as it felt. Every limb throbbed and bruises clustered across her in dark purple hues that stood starkly against her pale skin.

Hisoka had not fared much better. This morning, for the first time in the many months she'd known him, he seemed to be a deep, restful sleep. It was disturbing to think that this is what it took for a man like to find peace.

They had eventually reached the bed, and she'd awoken beside him in sheets that were tacky with still-drying blood. The gashes down his chest would be the least of his worries when he awoke. The suite she wasn't sure how they would even begin to clean up. Scar's body laid face-down beside the surgical table, and the dismembered pieces of his arms were scattered across the floor in its vicinity. The floor had been protected by plastic and most of the blood across it had already dried, but in the daylight Winry saw there was blood on the walls and ceiling from when she'd amputated his arms before letting him bleed out.

She still couldn't believe that Hisoka had done that for her — that he'd had the foresight to have Illumi capture Scar and bring him back to Yorknew City for her to execute. She couldn't believe the level of rage she'd had bottled up toward the Ishvalan, and how brutally it had manifested itself once she was given the opportunity to set things right. If Ed heard what she had done, butchering Scar piece by piece, he would never think it to be true. Yet it was, and it had only happened because Hisoka had given her the assurances she'd longed for for so long. He wouldn't judge her. He wouldn't restrain her. He hadn't. Not in that regard, anyway.

She couldn't believe that she'd spent the night with Hisoka.

He had warned her sufficiently in the past for her to have realized that pain and fighting were what turned him on, and in the back of her mind she'd known his arousal was a likely risk. Yet he'd always restrained himself when she'd rejected his more casual advances. What she hadn't foreseen had been her willingness to accept him. She'd been tangled in a fray of emotions and adrenaline, riding on the high of finally putting Scar down like the dog he was, and he'd warned her. She had accepted him anyway.

Sex for Hisoka was an act of violence.

Hisoka did not make love, nor did he merely fuck. What he did was consume all in his path. She had found new heights and new depths in his arms, and in the moment it had been paramount to a drug. How delicious it had been to explore exchanging symphonies of pain in tandem with sex of that caliber.

She could never let it happen again.

Winry focused her aura and began to heal the injuries she'd incurred through the course of the night. Bruises and cuts healed before her eyes, and she marveled at how the aches and pains had faded, leaving behind only the occasional scar. When they were gone she stepped into his shower to wash. She had no choice except to use his soaps, which all at once felt like an invasion of his privacy as well as a violation of hers. But she left the shower clean, and that mattered more.

By the time Winry left the shower, after taking further liberties by dressing in a set of his clean clothes, Hisoka was awake. He was naked from the waist up, letting her admire her own handiwork that she'd dealt him. If they had been fighting, she doubted she would've been able to land a fraction of those strikes. Under the circumstances of bedroom play, however, he had challenged her to hit him harder.

He was already handling clean up. Scar's body was wrapped in the plastic he'd been left on, along with all the loose appendages. The table had been wiped down, too. Their eyes met and he straightened his back as he looked down at her, as though he were waiting for her reaction. To see if she would be embarrassed or ashamed of what they had done to one another through the night. When she didn't blush or shy away, he smirked.

They made surprisingly short work of cleaning the room together, rolling and bagging the plastic. Hisoka left twice — on the first return he brought one of the janitorial garbage bins, and unceremoniously forced Scar's stiffening corpse inside along with the plastic. On the second, he came back empty-handed. She'd finished sterilizing the table by that point, and had laid out everything she would need for Hisoka's procedure. When he came back his eyes roved the instruments with barely suppressed glee.

"I can heal your injuries," she offered reluctantly.

Hisoka scoffed. "You won't touch my souvenirs."

Souvenirs, as though the scars she'd leave on him would be trophies of their time together. But those scars were all she could give him in return for the great service he'd done her by delivering Scar, because this couldn't happen again. Hisoka was a dangerous man, and his brand of lust too indulgent. Nothing good could come of it.

He showered, then she washed again after he finished. When she emerged again she found a set of her own clothes waiting for her on the bathroom counter. The idea of him lock picking his way into her quarters then choosing things for her to wear was almost as uncomfortable as it had been for her to choose clothing of his for the same purpose — although having had sex together probably had lessened the blow from what it would've been otherwise.

With all the preparation out of the way, there was nothing else to procrastinate behind and it was time for the inevitable. She'd only performed a few amputations, and the majority had been with close supervision. There was no margin for error either. If Hisoka felt any of the trepidation she did about what they were about to do, it didn't show as he rolled a fresh layer of plastic underneath her table.

"What's your height and weight?"

"I'm six-food-two and two hundred pounds," he said, raising a brow as he stripped off his shirt once more and laid down on the table. "Why do you ask?"

"So I know how much will sedate you, and how much will kill you," Winry answered, frowning at him as she prepared a syringe for the initial knock out.

"I don't want to be sedated."

She blinked, glancing up at him with unmasked surprise. "What?"

"I don't want to be sedated for the procedure."

"So you want a local anesthetic?"

"Hmh," Hisoka smirked. "You know what I mean. Put the syringe down, mink."

"Absolutely not. This is a delicate procedure, and if you so much as flinch you could ruin my work," she snapped, waving the needle in his face in warning. "And if _that_ happens you'll need more than just your arm replaced. Understood?"

The look he gave her was deceptively coy, and might have fooled her if she didn't know so much better than that. "Fine. A local anesthetic it is," he conceded with a wave of his hand.

Winry tied her wet hair back, and donned one of the white coats her grandmother had sent along with gloves and a mask. She cleaned his pale skin with alcohol, and spent a few minutes studying his skin tension so she could mark her lines, then set about injecting the anesthetic. Hisoka didn't so much as flinch. He watched her instead with his perpetual, cool interest. His eyes widened with delight as she picked up her scalpel and made the first incision.

This was far different than how the evening had transpired. She was calm, relaxed even, as she carefully made her cuts, cauterizing, and clamped the veins and arteries as she went. It took her longer than it would have if she had a second pair of hands, but she certainly wasn't going to ask Hisoka to assist. She stopped occasionally to inject more anesthetic, and Hisoka seldom spoke, instead content to watch the process unfold. He stayed still as a dead man, even as she used a thin wire-like saw to cut through the bone with precision, until at last she picked the severed limb up and set it aside.

His amber eyes glowed with what she could only describe as glee.

"I'll install the housing unit tomorrow," Winry told him after she'd bandaged the stump, rising to her feet and beginning to collect the instruments for wash and sterilize.

He _stuck out his lip._ She raised a brow at him.

"Must I wait so long?"

"It will take me even longer than this to install the permanent housing unit, where I connect all your nerves to the base. And that isn't something I'm willing to do without a good night's sleep."

"Hmh." If he had been wondering whether there would be a repeat performance, he had his answer now. "Do I get to keep it?"

Winry wrinkled her nose as she headed to the sink with her instruments. "I don't care." She didn't glance back over her shoulder to see what he was doing with his detached limb, because she certainly didn't want to know.

"I'm surprised you didn't use Nen," he commented from somewhere behind her. "It would make things go more quickly..."

At that she paused, her hand on the tap. She hadn't even considered that she could have used Nen for the amputation and installation. It really hadn't even crossed her mind that she could have used it with Scar once she'd laid her eyes on the tools Hisoka had made available. She would need to focus on it — make using her Hatsu as instinctual as using Ten had become.

"It's a delicate operation. I wasn't comfortable experiment with it on you," Winry lied.

"Hmh."

"What's happening in Yorknew City?" she asked as the basin filled with water, already clouding red with Hisoka's blood.

"The Boss hasn't told me." Perhaps she was overthinking, but she thought she heard his tone change when he said that. It was the closest to resentful that she'd ever heard him be. "I will find out when I get there. Although, now that I think about it, you never really explained your Nen ability to me. How you used transmutation and manipulation in tandem to fix my arm."

"I couldn't tell you if I tried. I just did it," Winry answered honestly, draining the water from the sink.

Hisoka joined her at the counter, opening the cabinet and taking a bowl from the shelf. He held it in the sink in front of her, and only smirked at her until she turned on the water to fill it before setting it on the counter at her side. Winry watched him now from the corner of her eye — whatever he'd done with his arm, it was gone — as he went to a potted plant in the corner of the room and plucked a leaf from it.

She pursed her lips tightly as she dried her hands on a towel while Hisoka made a grand gesture of lying the leaf on top of the water to float, then with another one-armed flourish he motioned for her to take the test.

"This is silly," Winry said with a sigh, but she placed her hands on either side of the bowl compliantly, already focusing her Ren onto it as she stared at him in defiance. "We've done this before."

"Things sometimes change," Hisoka whispered, eyes focused on the bowl.

A chill went down her spine as his black irises widened and his lips parted for his tongue to slide across. She glanced down at the bowl, then quickly backed a step away from it, flinching.

"What happened to the leaf?" she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand as she bent to look inside.

"Manipulators and Conjurers have the highest likelihood to evolve," he said, dipping his finger into the water and twirling it. The pieces of the leaf, which had crumbled into something like ash on the bottom of the bowl, spun in a small whirlpool before dispersing. "Into Specialists."


	51. However, She Couldn’t

"Damn it, Hisoka. Next time I see him, I'll tear him apart."

Winry's eyes widened at the statement they overheard as they crept through the abandoned building. Perhaps he was concerned she would open her mouth to protest on his behalf — which she'd had no intention of — because he laid the fingers of his left hand across her mouth to silence her. Winry responded by biting his fingertips, glad he hadn't tried to shut her up with his new automail right arm instead. The response had been purely instinctual, and she likely would've broken a tooth.

* * *

The installation had gone smoothly, and Hisoka had marveled at his new arm with some wonder before experimenting with his Bungee Gum. He was able to encompass the prosthetic with his aura and wield from it as he had his born appendage, and he commented that the difference between his reflexes was almost imperceptible. Then she had left to pack a satchel and put in her resignation. Winry couldn't fathom being granted further leave after going back to Amestris for weeks to address a "family emergency".

Dr. Hirano had pulled her into an office and demanded to know why, whether Hisoka was the reason behind it, and if she would be returning. Winry had been relieved, at least, to be able to say honestly that she was not leaving because of Hisoka. Even though he would be accompanying her to Yorknew City, she was going because Chrollo wanted her there — and had come to her himself to ask. Had Hisoka requested it, or even Machi, she knew she would have been far more likely to decline.

Chrollo, however, she couldn't refuse.

Dr. Hirano had insisted that she remain instated in her position, but her status be changed to sabbatical for one month. If she did not return at the end of one month, then the good doctor had warned she would be bringing the full force of the law down upon them. Winry had made herself suppress her laugh then. What did Dr. Hirano believe the law could do to people like Hisoka and Chrollo? Whatever — she could maintain her delusions.

When Winry had returned to Hisoka's room, with a bag of clothes over one shoulder and her tool kit in the other, Hisoka had brandished his new right arm in front of her — the automail nowhere to be see. It was his arm, exactly as it had been only two days earlier.

"How did you—" she'd began, grabbing his arm in her hands and turning the limb this way and that to get a better look. Except it didn't feel quite like muscle underneath. Her eyes narrowed and rose to meet Hisoka's impish grin. Her fury bubbled to the surface and surpassed the floodgates, and before she could think she punched him square in the chest before pointing a finger in his face. "What did you do to my beautiful automail?!"

"Is this how you treated your alchemist?" he teased instead of answering. "No wonder he didn't ask you to stay." Winry glared at him, but didn't back down. He shrugged. "I covered it with my texture surprise. It won't do me any good if the others knew about it. Wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

Hisoka didn't flinch when she bit him. To the contrary, his brows rose and he tilted his head in the direction of the exit — a blatantly invitation to abandon this little meeting in favor of something less structured. Winry dragged a finger across her throat in an unmistakable gesture, and he smiled dryly.

"Oh dear," he at last drawled in response to the offense that had been murmured, turning slightly so that he was at last visible to the rest of the Troupe around the corner. "That sounds quite gruesome indeed. I'm simply terrified."

"Hisoka! You bastard!" a big man snapped as Hisoka stepped out into the open, and Winry followed his lead.

She didn't recognize the man who had spoken, but her eyes took quick inventory of the room. She saw plenty of faces she had met before; Pakunoda, Nobunaga, Shalnark, Machi— It took her a moment longer to find Chrollo, who lingered back in the shadows.

"Guess you're running a bit late," Shalnark said, his upbeat, enthusiastic tone masking any reservations he may have had.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show," Machi added. She glared openly at Hisoka in a way that Winry sympathized all too much with.

"Who's this?" the big man demanded. "She's kinda cute." Winry didn't blush. Nobunaga answered before anyone else could.

"I remember you. You went to Heavens Arena with us. You're that mechanic. What are you doing here?"

"This is Winry Rockbell, a mechanic from across the sea. She's come to do us a great favor," Chrollo spoke, his voice barely a whisper, "with regard to our task at hand."

His mere presence seemed to take all the air from the room, and Winry inhaled a deep breath as he stood. Everyone quieted and ceased their movement as Chrollo stepped toward her. His black hair had been slicked back, and he bore the tattoo on his forehead proudly and in the open for all to see. He wore no shirt beneath his coat. He was in so many ways, Winry realized, Hisoka's ideal foil. They were both beautiful but in starkly different ways; while Hisoka seemed to glow, the shadows belonged to Chrollo. Hisoka was the evil that abused until you gave in, while Chrollo's darkness invited you in with promises of everything a person could desire. Chrollo was the man who, upon betrayal, would slit your throat and leave you to die without fanfare. Hisoka, she knew firsthand now, would rip you limb from limb until he was satisfied. Even as far back as their first meeting, Hisoka had frightened her while Chrollo had lulled her so far into false security that if she'd been using a Hatsu, he'd have stolen it from under her nose.

Winry wondered which she would discover herself to be along this new path.

"Winry-san," he said, bowing his head as he approached her.

His arm was outstretched, and in his hand he held a rolled paper. Her forehead creased as she took it from him and opened it, studying the blueprint. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, but it was ingenious in design.

"Will this work?" she asked, glancing up at him wide-eyed and amazed.

"Can you build it?"

"It shouldn't be a problem."

"Wonderful." Chrollo took the paper from her hands and turned it over; there was an address written on the back. "Go there. It's where you will be staying until we've finished our business here." He turned slightly to face the rest of the Troupe, the volume of his voice increasing so they all might here. "I will send someone to check in on you often. Should you need anything, for yourself or your project, you will let them know."

The way the rest of the room looked upon her changed. She felt the atmosphere change with it. She was still an outsider to them, even to the ones she had crossed paths with before, but Chrollo's demonstration that he accepted her trumped all else. She would need to show them his trust wasn't misplaced. She slid the paper into her pocket.

"You can go. Leave here taking a different route than you came. We will be in touch. Everything you need for your project is waiting for you."

Winry gave a brief bow.

"I'm on it, Boss."


	52. Prepared To Be Rid

Winry glanced out the peephole before opening the door, and a muscular man she recognized from the hideout ducked inside. He was as tall as Hisoka with short blonde hair, and a strong jawline. His eyes were beady.

"Boss said you needed help," he stated plainly, looking her up and down only once before glancing around the room. Welding equipment and tools were scattered around the room, and there were scorch marks on the wall. She had pulled the nails so that she could roll up the carpet, and she had propped it up in a corner away from where she was working. She had covered the wide, out-ward swinging double doors that led to a patio with boards. In the center of the room she had several bars already welded. The man smiled in what she could only interpret as approval. "I'm Phinks."

"I just need a second set of hands," Winry answered as she shut and locked it behind him. "I'm Winry."

"I've heard about you," he acknowledged.

He didn't wait for her to tell him what to do, he was already shrugging out of his tracksuit jacket. He wore a white sleeveless shirt underneath. Winry tossed a pair of welding gloves in his direction, and he snatched them out of the air with one hand without blinking to pull them on.

"What's this errand that the Boss has you working on?" he asked.

"I'm building an aerial device," she explained, handing him the paper Chrollo had given to her.

"A hot air balloon?" Phinks said with curiosity. "You've never heard of these before?"

"There aren't flying machines where I'm from. The first time I saw one was when I met Chrollo flying from Maycape to Yorknew City awhile ago. I'm building the framework right now out of these hollow metal bars, but it looks like Chrollo overlooked clamps when he got the supplies together, so I need someone to hold these."

"I can do that."

She tossed him a helmet and he pulled it on, then they got to work. It had taken longer for him to get there than it did for her to finish welding the framework for the hot air balloon together. As they worked, though, Phinks questioned her intermittenly.

"Where are you from?"

"Amestris."

"Chrollo said you're a mechanic?"

"I design and build automail — mechanical prosthetic limbs. They're common in Amestris."

"So you come from a place with mechanical prosthetics, but nothing that flies? Sounds kind of backward. What's your deal with Hisoka?"

That she hadn't been sure how to answer at first. For a moment what they were to each other felt too complex to cut down to bite size. Then she wondered why it had always seemed that way, when in the end it was exceedingly simple.

"He taught me to use Nen," she said, "but he's a bit deranged."

Phinks had laughed aloud at that.

"I never took Hisoka for the mentor type," Phinks chuckled. "And yeah. That's Hisoka. sometimes I wonder what the Boss keeps him around for. He's unreliable and untrustworthy ever since he joined two years ago."

Winry had nothing to say to that. She had a good idea of why Hisoka had been unreliable; he'd spent a great deal of that time in Amestris with her. She had wondered plenty of times whether Chrollo knew what Hisoka did when he was left to his own devices but, for the first time, she found herself debating whether she should tell Chrollo.

She'd realized long ago that Chrollo was a wolf she would rather have on her side, but most of that time she'd viewed Chrollo and Hisoka as being on the same side. It was only recently that she'd realized was Hisoka's motivations were with regard to Chrollo, and learned that Chrollo was suspicious of that much. What would she happen if she told him that Hisoka had gone to Amestris to learn alchemy, and that now he had an automail arm? Would Chrollo kill her for having enabled Hisoka? Or would he protect her from Hisoka, because Hisoka would surely kill her if she revealed his secrets. Their secrets, because she was a part of them, too.

If she had to choose someone's corner to be in, who was it wiser to back? Hisoka Morow or Chrollo Lucilfer?

Phinks was a sufficient assistant for the task at hand. They finished the basket frame in short order, and made equally quick work of assembling the basket before attaching the balloon and a gas labeled as propane. She commented to Phinks that in Amestris they likely would have used butane instead. He'd found that amusing.

They finished with time to spare before the deadline, and were playing cards when someone knocked.

Winry opened the door, and Chrollo gazed down at her expressionlessly from the other side of the jamb. Behind him stood most of the Troupe. She stood aside to let them in. Chrollo kept the introductions brief. Machi, Pakunoda, Nobunaga, and Shalnark she already knew. Feitan, Uvogin, Shizuku, and Franklin bowed their heads as they were named.

"Is it finished?" Chrollo asked, and Winry nodded. "Well done."

"How do we operate it?" Shalnark said.

"Like this—" Winry turned to see Nobunaga pointing to something, but Uvogin brushed him aside saying, "No, you're doing it wrong. You—"

A hand touched her elbow. She didn't have to look to know it was Chrollo. She let him draw her away from the others, and he pressed something into her hand. Winry glanced down to see an envelope, and knew it was money. She was smart enough not to object, instead sliding it into her pocket.

"You did well," he acknowledged. "I'd like for you to remain here until I tell you to go elsewhere. If you have no objections."

"So you can kill me at your convenience now that I've served my purpose?" Winry said with a quiet, uncomfortable laugh, her earlier concerns nibbling at the back of her mind.

His forehead creased and his dark brows furrowed. "Is that what you believe?"

"If you believed it was necessary, yes. Without hesitation."

At that, Chrollo smiled.

"If it were necessary, but we are both fortunate it isn't. Machi told me what she's seen you do — you have great potential. I'm not prepared to be rid of you yet." She bit the insides of her cheeks when he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, still smiling. "But if anyone is going to kill you, Winry Rockbell, I want to be the one to have that honor."

Her knees went weak.

"Are we ready, Boss?" Shalnark asked. Chrollo nodded.

They took down the boards blocking the doors to the patio, and together they carried the basket and balloon outside to where a truck was waiting, then loaded it onto the flatbed before covering it with a tarp. Feitan, Machi, Nobunaga, Uvogin, and Shizuku were piling into a car.

"Can I have these?"

Winry turned to see Shalnark behind her, holding the deck of cards she and Phinks had been playing with while they waited.

"Ah — sure," she conceded, and he beamed before tucked them in his pocket and heading off to the car, leaving only Pakunoda, Phinks, and Chrollo behind.

"I will be in touch," Chrollo told her, putting his hands in the pocket. "Stay here. I may need you yet."


	53. Creation

Winry sighed, staring up at the clouds with pursed lips, her fingers laced behind her head. The shingles were still warm from soaking up the sunshine through the day, but the air was pleasantly cool. She remembered, somewhat somberly, how often she had done exactly this back in Resembool. Those late nights when she'd climb up on the roof and just stare at the stars that filled their navy sky. Yorknew City, however, was so much different than her small southern town. It seemed like there were fewer stars to shine down on her here.

Squealing tires on a nearby street cut through the quiet of the nighttime cityscape. Winry thought little of it; it was an almost ambient noise she had become familiar with after her time living at Heavens Arena.

She kept her cellphone balanced on her stomach, waiting. Before Chrollo had left, he'd recited to her the phone numbers for each of the Troupe members, and told her he had given hers to them already. She wondered what they were doing — where they were. What the balloon had been for. What more they might need from her. Why they would need her to stay longer. What would transpire over the next few days. How close they would let her get.

She wondered why Chrollo had even let her this close.

Chrollo had told her their name; the Phantom Troupe. Gen'ei Ryodan. The power he had given her just by telling her that much hadn't gone unnoticed. Winry had done her due diligence about them, she knew now the things they were accused of. Perhaps two years ago, or even only one, it would have changed how she felt about Chrollo and his 'friends'. It changed nothing for her now besides wonder what else they thought she could do for them since the balloon was built.

More screeching wheels echoed through the streets, layering itself on top of the other that was still whining in the not-so-far distance. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her feet rocking from side to side rhythmically as she pondered what to do. She didn't want to leave, but there wasn't anything to do to pass the time since she'd given Shalnark her deck of cards.

Another set of tires screamed against the pavement, joining the chorus, followed by several more vehicles doing the same. Now Winry propped herself up on her elbows to glance around. It was getting louder, and she'd already lost count of how many cars she heard. Doors were slamming. As she pushed herself up to her feet she heard indistinct shouting.

Something was happening.

As panic ensued nearby, she couldn't help except to tilt her head back and look again to the starless sky. High overhead, Winry saw the familiar outline of a hot air balloon gliding. The black balloon, with its thin white stripes, was almost camouflaged against the clouds. Fire winked for a brief moment, raising it a little higher — the only clue that the silent aircraft was there at all.

The chaos was growing louder and more frantic as the balloon and its passengers slipped away into the night.

What would Ed think if he learned of this? If he knew what had transpired after their final farewell in the hospital? That she had willingly assisted outlaws like the Phantom Troupe, well-aware that whatever their intentions were, blood had likely spilled. He would be horrified by the people she surrounded herself with. He'd be sickened that she was tumbling — it'd been slowly at first, but now it was headlong and breathlessly quick — into the lives they led.

That she was letting this become a part of herself.

But, standing on the roof of her own little hideout in Yorknew City, watching her creation grow smaller as it approached the horizon, Winry shoved her hands in her pockets and smiled privately to herself for the marvelous thing she had done.

* * *

_Past few days have been busy, but I wanted to get something up, even if it's shorter than usual_


	54. The Lambs Didn’t Think

Time marched forward with the eagerness and resolve of a starved, beaten army.

Winry had listened attentively to the commotion in the nearby tourist district, despite all she could hear being only chaos. She mentally calculated where she was, and what was nearby. There were several hotels in close radius, including Hotel Beitacle — the hotel she had stayed at on her maiden voyage across the sea.

She'd stayed on the roof more than an hour after the balloon had left her sights, and long after she'd realized she wouldn't be able to glean any information from this distance. She also was intelligent enough to understand that leaving the house to find out more would be unwise; she was expected to be here. But as more time passed while the nighttime breeze grew stronger, and her phone remained silent, she eventually retreated indoors to pace.

It was after the two hour mark that her cellphone began to ring in her hand, and she flipped it open hastily to see who was calling. Winry blinked in surprise.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, Winry! It's Shalnark!" His tone was in its usual, upbeat key. In the background she heard Uvogin bellow, _"Is that the mechanic Boss brought along? She was cute,"_ without any shame. Something about his demeanor reminded her to Captain Buccaneer, and she blushed. Shalnark didn't acknowledge what the other man had said. "I need you to go get us beer, and a lot of it."

"I can do that," she agreed.

She wanted to ask what they had done and if they'd succeeded. She wanted to know if this was how they intended to celebrate, even though she had a hard time imagining the likes of Machi, Chrollo, and Hisoka plying themselves with alcohol for any elation. She refrained though, swallowing down all her questions and settling on just one.

"Anything else?"

"That's it for now. I'll call again in a bit."

Instinct had warned her she might need to do something to change her appearance, even slightly. So she parted her hair down the middle and plaited her blonde lengths into two long tails before twisting them together to pile atop her head. A few pins tacked down her bangs. She'd brought along a bag that held a pair of thick, rectangular black glasses, and a komon. She dressed quickly, then left to find the nearest store.

Winry at last heard sirens howling in the direction the balloon had come from, and her head turned to follow their noise, wind gusting around her. A group of men had gathered outside their door nearby, and she caught pieces of their conversation.

_"Mafia auction—"_

_"—got what they deserved for—"_

_"—wonder who did it..."_

_"Look at the tits on her."_

She lowered her gaze as she walked past, but the men grew quiet as one of them leapt off the stoop, landing beside her. Her jaw locked as the man ran his fingers through his hair and smiled down at her.

"I like your glasses."

Winry bit the insides of her cheeks before forcing herself to give a curt nod. "Thank you."

"Do you want a drink?" he offered, extending a green can to her. Winry's eyes lowered to it, reading the label as the smell on his breath reached her nose.

"Are you having a party?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's his birthday," he said, gesturing to one of the men still standing on the stoop. The man in question raised his can to her. "Do you want to drink with us?"

"I wouldn't be comfortable being the only girl." Winry bit her lip and peered up from beneath her long lashes. The man beside her flushed. She pressed together the tips of her pointer fingers for good measure. "Would it be okay if I invited a few more girls?"

"If that would make you comfortable, sure."

"Do you have enough beer for all of us though?"

"How many friends did you want to invite?"

"Two of us two each one of you?" His jaw went slack, and Winry swallowed hard and held her breath to keep from laughing at his reaction. "Is that too many? I don't want to impose."

"Don't worry, sunshine," birthday boy chimed in. "We got enough beer to get a whole circus drunk."

Her experience in flirtation was limited. She'd never felt like she had to be anything other than herself when it came to the people she had an attraction for. She felt awkward and uncomfortable in her own body as she climbed the steps, too conscious of the natural sway of her hips, then laid her hand on the birthday boy's arm as she gave him what she prayed was a demure smile.

"Can I see it?"

He looked her up and down only once, wetting his lips with his tongue, before he gestured to the door. Winry let him open it for her then stood back to let him show her the way. Her eyes scanned each room they walked past, making a list of silent mental notes. The curtains were drawn and, judging from how they they didn't flutter, the windows were shut.

He led her to a small kitchen where he opened the fridge with a flourish, smiling down at her with what she could only interpret as pride. There was little in the way of food — a few takeaway containers, a half empty bottle of pop, and some things she didn't want to attempt to identify. The rest of the fridge, however, was plump with cases of beer. Certainly more than she would have bought herself if she'd made it to the store. Winry covered her mouth with a hand to hide her smile.

"Is that enough for you and all your friends?"

She took three short steps so that she stood in front of him, a breath apart from one another, and reached up to adjust the collar of his wrinkled shirt.

"It's perfect," she whispered, beaming at him before she slid her hand across his throat.

She felt his flesh part under her touch, and she sidestepped as the spray of arterial blood spurted from the wound. He grabbed at his neck as his knees went out beneath him, then he fell facedown onto the floor. One of his friends stepped into the kitchen at the noise, but Winry moved in close, reaching up to seize his head between her hands, and snapped it. She caught the heft of his corpse in her arms and lowered him to the ground.

Winry left the kitchen and found another of the men lingering in the hallway. He didn't have time to react as she walked past him, arm outstretched to drag her fingertips across the soft, vulnerable flesh of his throat. There was music playing in her head and she could feel a weight lifting from her shoulders as she reached the front door.

"Are there bandages?" she asked, wide-eyed as she showed the three men still outside her bloodstained fingers. "He said you'd know where they are."

The lambs didn't think twice to come to her rescue.

She shoved their bodies so they sat against one wall together in the entryway, then made short work of checking the rest of the house to see whether there was anyone else she should be concerned about.

When that was done, Winry cleared a space for herself on a sofa and sent both Chrollo and Shalnark a text message with the address for the house she had commandeered. She had barely hit send when her phone began to ring.

Hisoka.

_"Do you trust me?"_

_"Hmh. No, mink. I do not."_

_"Why?"_

_"You are a onesome little thing. A wild card — difficult to predict. I have yet to decide whether that is a quality I enjoy about you. So no, I do not trust you. I likely never will. And it's best if you don't trust me in return."_

She stared at his name for a prolonged minute, biting her lip and stomach uneasy, before laying her phone down on the cushion beside her until it went silent.


	55. The Seedling

More waiting.

Winry watched the shadows move across the room as time ticked by painstakingly slow. She played card games on her phone intermittently, but mostly just waited with the thoughts in her head.

The past few months had happened so quickly, she felt as though she hadn't had the time to register what she'd lived through. Traveling back to Amestris and finally putting what she'd learned from Hisoka to the test against the homunculus Sloth, and the mannequin soldiers. Then returning to Heavens Arena only to be surprised by Hisoka's gift.

To kill Scar was the thing she had wanted most for so long, and too many times knowing he was still out there... _alive_...had hurt so much she couldn't breathe. The opportunities she'd let slip between her fingers had haunted her. Ed's judgment had held her back. Hisoka recognized the seedling of darkness in her, and she was utterly without doubt that he had watched eagerly while it blossomed and festered, continually denied the one thing that would give her rest.

Had Ed let her kill Scar that day, it would have ended there. Instead it had eaten her alive from the inside out until she was no longer even the same person. She wouldn't have been able to dismember him so remorselessly otherwise. And she wouldn't be able to share this space so peacefully with six corpses.

_Anyone can act as Examiner...Yet so many people believe that they are only meant to be the examinees. The world has enough of those._

Scar had merely been Hisoka's litmus test to see how far she was gone. Little did he know she had already submitted to Chrollo about the lengths she was willing to go.

_"I am the Head of the Spider...We are the Phantom Troupe. We steal, and we kill whenever necessary — without hesitation. You have a skillset that would benefit me, Winry, if you consent to be of assistance when I need you."_

_"I'll help you."_

_"Even if it meant that blood needed to be spilled?"_

_"Yes."_

Glancing at the bodies lined up nearby, however, it was still hard to believe it had been this...easy. If Ed had ever killed someone, whether intentionally or not, he would've been sick with grief. He would have lamented what his other options were, he would have eaten himself alive with the guilt of the deed. Her conscience was quiet.

The phone rang.

"It's Machi. I assume you're not busy."

"Just waiting for you all to tell me what's next."

"Meet us at this address I'm about to give you in half an hour. I think I might be able to make good use of you."

The address was to a chocolates shop, and as Winry arrived she spotted Machi standing in the shadows of the alley. She looked the group up and down with a raised brow as Machi shoved a handful of clothes into her arms. Phinks and Shizuku were there, and it took her a moment longer to recognize Shalnark, Nobunaga, and Feitan in their disguises.

"Put these on."

It was a suit, similar to what all of them were wearing. The men turned their backs as Winry stripped out of her _kamon_ and dressed herself in the suit. Machi pulled a black wig over her vibrant hair.

"Uvogin has been captured by the mafia," Phinks said over his shoulder, and her fingers fumbled on the buttons of her shirt in surprise. "We have to go in and get him."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, instinctively looking at Machi for the answer while she folded her collar up and began to thread her tie.

"He's been paralyzed by a neurotoxin, but Shizuku said she can handle that. But Shizuku's Nen ability can't take in anything that's still living, and he's been infested with leech eggs."

"Machi said you might be able to handle that," Phinks said, turning around to face her. Winry heard the interest and question in his voice. Feitan, Nobunaga, and Shalnark followed suit.

"Hey — Do my tie, too," Nobunaga said, stepping forward without waiting for her response. Feitan's eyes strayed to one side, and the tone was the same as if he'd rolled them. "How'd you get yours so even?"

"So can you do it?" Phinks asked as she obliged Nobunaga's request, her fingers making quick, deft work of the length of material.

"I haven't tried anything like that before, but I will try."

"It's fine if you can't," Shalnark inserted. "Machi told me you might be able to help after I'd already called about the beer. I hope you didn't go through any trouble."

Winry bit her lip to keep from laughing. "None at all."

"Uvogin will want the beer anyway after all this," Nobunaga said. "He's going to be heated."

"You're telling me. I can't believe we're having to do this at all," Feitan replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. He stared at her pointedly. "Are we ready?" She gave him a curt nod. "Good. Stay toward the back with Shizuku."

"You think Winry — Hisoka's protege — needs protection?" Phinks scoffed.

Feitan's eyebrows rose with newfound curiosity.

"Is that so. I didn't think Hisoka could trust someone enough to let them get that close," he commented.

"Hisoka doesn't trust anyone," Winry countered as she tied her hair back in a low ponytail.

"Which is why he was such an odd addition to the Troupe, even if he's strong. We all at least trust each other," Shalnark chimed in, his upbeat tone cutting through the thickening tension. "Which is why we better get going. Uvo is waiting."

They traveled in two black cars to the building Shalnark explained he had learned Uvogin was being held. Her nerves hummed as they drove. Her Hatsu still felt so new to her, and she was aware she hadn't laid out its limitations in black and white. She wasn't certain that she could — it almost felt as though it were still evolving, just beyond reach of her fingertips to control. She wasn't sure that she'd be able to do what they expected, but at the same time she felt it shouldn't be so much of a stretch that she couldn't.

There was no precursor.

They parked directly in front of a building, and went to the doors together. Winry kept her face stoic, following the Troupe's example. Calm. Cool. Collected. Phinks pressed a button for them to be buzzed in.

"Yeah, we're on floor B2," a man's voice answered.

So this was the plan. To walk right in the font door. She wondered what Shalnark had done to arrange this deception. Winry mirrored them; she took the door from Machi, then held it open a moment longer for Shizuku behind her to grab it. Gold elevator doors were across the lobby from them, and they got in together. Phinks pressed a button.

B2.

Her heartbeat hammered staccato.

Another lobby waiting for them when the doors opened, and they were buzzed through the next doorway there.

"Thanks," a dark-haired man said as he welcomed them in. _Welcomed them._ The absurdity might have made her laugh if not for the gravity of the situation.

"You haven't killed him yet?" Phinks asked.

"No. This way." The hapless fool led them down a hallway, then unlocked another door and guided them inside.

Uvogin laid half-naked and strapped to a table, bound with wires and shackles, his wild hair splayed everywhere, and blood staining his face and shoulder. Winry bit her tongue to keep from making a face at the lingering, trace-scent of fumes in the air. It wasn't strong, but it was enough for her to detect. Uvogin's eyes opened, already focused on them. His expression remained unchanged.

 _"—couldn't get a needle in him,"_ the man was saying, _"which meant we had to paralyze him with gas instead."_

A pause.

Then Uvogin murmured, "Clothes really make the man."

His captor had no opportunity to react. Phinks' strike was swift as a cobra, right arm lashing out in a single, smooth gesture to impale the man who'd brought them this far. Winry watched as he collapsed onto the floor, blood spurting from his chest, and Phinks took a kerchief from his pocket to clean his hand.

"I didn't believe it when I heard," Phinks chuckled, looking down at Uvo. "Never pegged you as the type to get yourself kidnapped."

"Hmph."

Nobunaga peeled off the facial hair he'd been wearing, and Machi her wig. Shalnark ran his fingers through his hair to ruffle it from the slicked-back style he'd worn it in. Phinks placed a pharaoh-styled nemes on his head. Shizuku was already walking toward the table.

"It's time for work, Blinky," she said, hands poised. Winry's lips parted as she watched a macabre device manifest in the small woman's hands. A tongue slid over a mouthful of teeth. "Now get in there and suck out all the poison that's paralyzing Uvo."

Shizuku lowered it to a wound on Uvogin's shoulder. Winry couldn't help except revert to Gyo to watch as the device performed its task.

"Okay. All done."

Uvogin made short work of snapping the wires that had been wrapped around his thick limbs, and sat up.

"Now you," Phinks said, turning to her.

"You're the Boss' mechanic," Uvogin said, sounding pleasantly surprised as he looked her up and down, as though only just recognizing that it was her. "I'm sorry there's nothing on me to fix — I'm all man, not machine." Winry ignored his comment, flattening her palm low enough on his torso for him to jerk from the unexpectedness of it. "Hey—"

"Release your aura," she instructed.

He did as she bid without question. With trust. She reflected back to what Feitan had said not so long ago. Winry closed her eyes and let her aura slide through him, searching. She found the leech eggs in his bladder easily. Could she kill them though?

It was child's play.

She had to be careful. Not as careful as with Izumi, but it was delicate nonetheless to avoid the healthy tissue of his bladder and kill only the eggs. If it caused Uvogin any discomfort, however, he didn't so much as flinch.

"They're dead," she announced when she drew her hand away. "You'll need to excrete them out when you urinate and that may not be the most comfortable experience considering the size of the eggs versus the circumference of the urethra, but I'm sure you can handle it."

"I see," he smirked. "So this is why the Boss is really keeping tabs on you."

Winry didn't know what to say to that. Uvogin didn't say more though as he turned, swinging his legs off the table, and inhaled a slow breath.

Phinks and the others immediately clamped their hands over their ears, and Winry hastily did the same just as Uvo bellowed, **_"DAMN IT!"_**

The force of his war cry shook the air, and the dust in the room flew up around them. The walls trembled. Winry hunched down under its assault, holding her own breath to keep her steady against the storm.

"I'm going to find that Chain User, and when I do I'm going to make him pay for this!"

Chain User?

She didn't have time to dwell on it. Uvo punched open the door to the room, shattering the wall around the frame as he did. Winry followed on Shizuku and Shalnark's heels as they tracked after him. She saw a spider tattoo with the number eleven low on his back. Had Hisoka had a tattoo like that with his number?

"Where is he!"

"I think he just ran away," Shalnark pointed out.

"It's probably because you were so darn loud," Shizuku added.

"We're heading back," Phinks said, ignoring Uvogin's outburst as he strode by, hands in his pockets. "Our job is here is done."

"And we got the treasure, too!" said Shalnark, falling in line behind the others to head toward the exit. Winry paused only a moment before deciding it would be better for her to stick with them.

"No!" Uvogin refused. Phinks paused. "You tell the Boss I'm not leaving. I can't go back until the settle the score with that damn Chain User."

"If that's what you really want," Phinks shrugged.

"You guys head back to the hideout with the treasure," Shalnark said. "I can probably help Uvo do this the right way."

"What? With your little Hunter license?" Uvogin taunted.

"Winry." She looked to Shalnark. "The address you texted me. Is there a computer there?"

"Yes," she nodded. She'd seen one downstairs when she had checked the rest of the house for any survivors. "There is. And beer."

"Let's go then," Uvogin growled, stalking off in the direction of the elevators. "I'm fucking thirsty."


	56. If She Was In

Uvogin gave one glance at the bodies lined up inside the door as they walked into the house, looked back at her, and a toothy grin cut across his face. He knelt beside them, tilting the stiffening corpses this way and that as he surveyed their wounds. Shalnark's footsteps stuttered as he entered behind them.

"You did this?" Uvogin asked.

"Beer is in the kitchen," Winry answered instead, then touched Shalnark's forearm to draw his attention and pointed into a side room. "Computer is this way."

Uvogin stomped down the hall, and Shalnark let her lead the way to the computer. He sat at the desk, his posture already conveying his comfort, and pressed the button to turn the computer on. She'd learned to use computers while she was working at Heavens Arena, but she was well-aware her knowledge of them was still elementary at best. They weren't like automail — gears and levers that could be explained. Computers were wires and circuits that created something from...nothing. That's how she looked at cellphones and televisions. As much as she explored them, she couldn't seem to digest the how.

 _"Damn!"_ Uvogin shouted. _"There are more in here!"_

Shalnark peeked up at her with his deceptively innocent face, bright eyes sparkling and curious as though she'd left a pleasant surprise for them to find in the kitchen. Although, to them perhaps she had.

"Never would have guessed from looking at you," he commented, glancing away again, and the irony wasn't lost on her.

Winry watched in silence as Shalnark worked. He used a card to access a website with a bartender; she assumed it was his Hunter license. She'd never seen Hisoka's to know. In the kitchen she heard Uvogin cracking open can after can of beer, and the subsequent hollow clatter as he tossed them down on the floor.

"This is it!"

Another can fell to the floor and she heard Uvogin come up behind them.

"It says here that a dummy corporation for the Nostrade family owns that building you were in."

"Alright then. Do you think you can track down a list of all the buildings in this area the Nostrade family own?" Uvogin asked.

"Sure can. I can also see if anyone has checked into a hotel using the Nostrade name lately."

It was really that easy, she realized with some disbelief — disbelief that quickly eroded into abstract alarm. Hisoka had access to all that information as well. She wondered if she was in its database. She worried about what it said.

"Know what you need, Uvo? A Hunter license. As long as you have the money, you can dig up all kinds of information from their site."

So it was for Hunters.

"Unlike you guys, I don't like the idea of money. If I want something, I take it," Uvogin responded, cracking open another beer.

"Well said! You're an exemplary bandit. Here — they own two other buildings in Yorknew City, and there are three hotels where members are staying. Alright. This search shouldn't take too long," Shalnark said, writing the information down on a piece of scrap.

"Thanks, buddy. I owe you one."

Uvogin bent and laid a kiss on Shalnark's cheek, and the smaller man cringed and drew away with surprise and unhappiness. Winry said nothing as she watched the exchange. Uvo turned away after he let go to Shalnark, and pushed the window wide open. He set one foot on the sill, crouching low so he would fit to climb out.

"Well, I'm off."

"What about the beer?" Shalnark asked.

"You guys can finish it." He looked back at her as he drained the can in his hand and dropped it to the floor. "Good work, mechanic girl. You've got some chops. Later."

"Hey—Uvo!" The big man turned to look back at Shalnark, who suddenly looked so small and young in his suit sitting at the computer, with eyes too serious for his age. "Don't get careless out there."

"No prob."

Winry watched as Uvogin jumped from the window with ease; she didn't hear him land, a feat for a man his size. She waited a moment before crossing the room to shut and window behind him.

"You've grown a lot." Shalnark's comment caught her off-guard, and she hesitated, not certain how to respond. He didn't give her the opportunity. "I remember the first time we met you, on the airship. You surprised us even then — it's hard to surprise the Boss. The thing is, though, you keep surprising us."

She kept surprising herself as well.

He turned the computer off, and stood.

"You can head back to the other house; I think we are finished with our business here. I don't anticipate all this taking much longer. We can all head home soon."

Home.

The concept suddenly seemed so foreign. Could she go back to Heavens Arena and the life waiting for her there? Did she even want to? Winry's head spun as she picture trying to go back to working as Dr. Hirano's assistant after this. The image in her head was black-and-white, and grainy like an old photograph. Lackluster.

"See you, Winry," Shalnark called, snapping her from her unpleasant reverie. She hadn't even noticed him heading toward the door. "I'm sure you'll surprise us again soon."

* * *

_I appreciate everyone's readership even though my posting has slowed. For those who haven't already followed my Instagram and don't know, my son is special needs. We recently resumed therapy after our move, and I'm having new issues with an old arm injury that's made it difficult to sit and write for long periods._

_This weekend, however, I plan on posting the cover for this story on my Instagram. I can't wait to share it with you all!  
_   
_@ nutellaismymiddlename_


	57. Left Wrist

She wasn't alone.

A chill tiptoed up Winry's spine, and she shuddered under the onslaught. There were no lights from outside shining in through the windows, and not a single source shone around her either. In this perfect darkness, she couldn't see anything. Fingers might be in front of her face, reaching for her or wiggling tauntingly. She strained her ears to listen, trying to quiet her breathing so she could listen. With her slow inhalations, she tried to smell.

_Hisoka._

Fear cascaded down her like ice water. She didn't have to worry about quieting her breathing anymore; she couldn't breathe at all. She wanted to reach for her gun, but she couldn't move. Her arms were paralyzed at her sides. Had he used Bungee Gum to restrain her? She couldn't use her Hatsu either if she couldn't use her hands. He was coming to kill her.

This wasn't how she should die. She had survived so much else, she couldn't die like this. Not at his hands.

 _"Someone is coming, Ms. Rockbell,"_ a voice from her subconscious whispered, and it almost sounded alarmingly like Kimblee.

She had to live.

Winry sucked down a trembling breath and calmed herself as best she could. Focus. If she used Gyo in the darkness, would she still be able to see his Bungee Gum? She had to try. If she saw how he had bound her, perhaps she'd be able to find a way out. If he had bound her, if he was here to kill her, she would have no choice except to fight back.

Hisoka was so clever though — could she kill him?

She'd try.

If she couldn't kill Hisoka, then she didn't deserve the Troupe's attention.

She inhaled, closing her eyes as she girded herself for what she needed to do next. In that silence, she heard a footstep. Winry flexed her arms ever so slightly, testing her range of motion — and found she could move again now. She could feel her gun in its holster, pressing into her hip; he hadn't taken it yet. She had to move first. She had to move first. She had to move first—

A gunshot rang out. Winry's eyes flew open and she gasped loudly, jerking awake where she sat on the floor in a corner. A finger was pressed to her lips, someone was whispering, "Shh—" and her right arm was outstretched over her head, pinned to the wall.

"You were dreaming," a familiar voice cajoled.

The features of Chrollo's face began to stand out in the darkness, and the racing of her heart quieted as his words sank in. Dreaming? Winry tilted her head back, the line of her gaze following to where their raised arms met. Her palm was wrapped around the rough grip of her gun, and he had the muzzle pinned to the wall between a dagger's bolster and the quillion. A hole was blown in the ceiling above them.

Neither of them spoke as Chrollo rose to his feet, then offered her his hand to pull her up. Her neck and back ached from the position she'd fallen asleep in. He was dressed in what she had eventually realized was actually his usual attire; his fur-trimmed trench coat, a purple so dark it was almost black. Hair slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead visible. Light from the windows cut across him in dim streaks. Her gun stayed pinned to the wall until he yanked the knife out to release it. Her eyes stayed on the curious-looking blade until he had returned it to whence it came.

He didn't need to explain.

"I believe something has happened to Uvogin," Chrollo said. His grey eyes lowered, and Winry noticed how his features drew tight. "He went after the Chain User who had captured him, and he hasn't returned. I suspect he is dead."

"What can I do?" she whispered.

"Shalnark said the building Uvo was held in belonged to the Nostrade family — mafioso. The head of the Nostrade family has a daughter who is here in Yorknew City. I intend to seek her out."

He turned then to a zipped suit bag she hadn't noticed before, hanging on the top of a door. Chrollo opened it, the zipper whispering under his fingers. He shrugged out of his coat and held it out to her. He was naked from the waist up. On the inside of his forearm was a spider tattoo, and on the spider's back was the same cross on his forehead.

_"What are you?"_

_"I am the Head of the Spider."_

Winry took his coat and held it in her arms, hesitating for only a moment before she asked again, "What can I do?"

"You are a sixteen-year-old girl with an interest in collecting body parts, and the event you came here for was cancelled." He paused for a moment. "Where would you go?"

She dwelled on that for a moment as Chrollo began to change, unabashed as he undressed in front of her. His look distantly was familiar; it was his dark suit. He tucked the tails of a white dress shirt into his slacks before running a belt through their loops.

"I would go shopping," she said at last, and his fingers hesitated on buttoning his cuffs.

"Shopping?"

"She didn't get to go do the thing she'd really wanted. Shopping for something else would be...second nature."

"Shopping," Chrollo repeated again softly. "I feel that possibility wouldn't have even occurred to Pakunoda or Machi."

"I'm sure they would have thought of it eventually."

"It took Machi a few hours to realize she could lure you out with that same ruse at Heavens Arena." His smile was of soft amusement at the memory. "Shopping."

"Here."

Winry saw a bulging pocket inside the unzipped suit bag, and she walked over to where the he'd left the bag hanging. Chrollo glanced over his shoulder at her.

"You may bring those to me."

She reached in and pulled out a watch, a handful of bandages, and a pair of cuff links along with a slender black tie. He bent his head as she paced back to him. Winry gingerly flipped up the collar of his shirt and laid the tie around his neck. Chrollo held out his left wrist expectantly, and Winry obliged by putting one of the cuff links through for him. Not a word passed between them as he then offered his right.

"I haven't seen you work since the first time we met," he commented. "After this is done, I will find an opportunity for another demonstration when we have all returned to Meteor City."

"Meteor City?"

Chrollo only gave a nod for an answer and lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her without a word. She inhaled, let the breath fill her from her head to the tips of her toes, let it expand every rib. Felt it in every cell of her being. Winry took the silk of his tie in her fingers and crossed the two ends, weaving them just as wordlessly into a tidy full Windsor while she mulled over the implication of his phrasing.

_When we have all returned to Meteor City._

She stepped away, hands falling to her sides, then squatted down and rocked back on her heels. Chrollo took the bandages and carefully wrapped the white lengths around his head while she only watched.

"I'd like for you to wait here, just a little longer. I will message you the instructions. Keep a window open — we will be paying our respects to Uvogin. It would please me for you to listen."

"May I participate?"

He smiled down at her.

"I would have enjoyed a demonstration in that form from you, but this is Troupe business...and I would need the demonstration before you could, and there isn't time for that tonight. So I only want you to listen, and to stay ready. Wait for my command."

After he left and she handled the business he messaged her, she opened the windows, laid on the floor, and waited. She hadn't had to wait very long — a few hours. Then the sound of gunfire sang through the air, and Winry felt her eyes grow wet at the sound of Uvogin's symphony.


	58. Slithered

_Earlier, at the hideout..._

“Our only target right now is the Chain User, so we can pretty much ignore everybody else,” Shalnark said pointedly, the tone of his voice leaving little room for argument.

Phinks frowned and looked away, and the brat dressed in green stuck out his tongue in childish retort.

“Not just yet,” Nobunaga retorted, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to where he sat on the floor, the shadows of the building settling into the hollows beneath his eyes and under his cheekbones. “I’m not letting the kid go. You want to join the Spiders? Team up with me.”

“No. I would rather die than team up with you guys!’ the kid snapped.

“We’re keeping them here until the Boss gets back,” Nobunaga said. “I’m nominating him.”

“Are you serious?” Phinks spat out. His features betraying his shock — eyes widening, jaw slack, shoulders tense.

“The Boss will never agree to that,” Feitan added.

“I have a nomination of my own,” Machi countered, taking a deliberate step forward to claim her space and take the floor. “I nominate Winry.”

“Are you serious?” Nobunaga demanded, turning. “The mechanic? You nominate the _mechanic?”_

Machi crossed her arms over her chest. “You saw her use her Nen ability.”

“Did he?” Hisoka drawled. Silence settled over them, and Phinks felt his skin crawl as the magician slithered from his place by the window, then lithely slid a hand over his hair. Hisoka’s lips parted into a wide smile. “So what did you think?”

“He’s just jealous he hasn’t gotten to see her in action,” Machi said, and Phinks seized on it — if only to aggravate Hisoka.

“You haven’t gotten to see your own protege at work? That’s a shame, she was great.”

“I have seen enough.” Hisoka’s neck curved as his head tilted back, touching his fingertips to the hollow of his throat. “She has no scruples when it comes to blood. I made sure of that.”

His expression was a little too privately smug for Phinks’ tastes, and Phinks was pleased when Shalnark added his voice to the conversation.

“She doesn’t,” Hisoka’s amber eyes darted to the other man, widening so slightly. Phinks wondered how Winry had become labeled as his protege when he hadn’t seen her Nen ability. Shalnark continued, his tone upbeat and excited at the prospect, “I also support Winry.”

“We’re keeping the kids here until the Boss gets back,” Nobunaga said again, refusing to relent.

“Fine, whatever, but you’ve got to babysit ‘em,” Machi warned.

The Boss won’t pick some kid over the mechanic, Phinks thought to himself. Had the Boss lived a different life, he would’ve been a fantastic politician — scheming yet tactful. The Troupe was all well-aware of the tension between Chrollo and their newest member, Hisoka. To take Hisoka’s protege away from him would be a devastating blow, and might guarantee Winry’s necessary loyalty for when the tension between Chrollo and Hisoka inevitably reached its breaking point. She needed to back the right horse.


	59. Some Form Levied

_After the auction..._

These fortunes were troublesome.

While the Nostrade girl's powers were useful, it was almost equally problematic — which was curious considering how similar all their fortunes were. All except Hisoka's, although the implication that he had a judgment chain of some form levied against him could explain that variance.

But Chrollo could not bring himself to place the Troupe — his friends — in harms way. They had taken the auction loot successfully, which had been their only goal, and he had gained two new abilities in his book, A Bandit's Secret. To stay longer would invite misfortune, as these predictions clearly warned, and tempt fate. He would not do that.

Before their peaceful hideout had descended into this debate or whether to stay or not among the members, he had already made his decision. He had already acted upon it. Although he had made certain to ensure the safety of their loot, he hadn't expected this resistance.

Shalnark reviewed the information they knew about the Chain User, but something wasn't sitting right — but he couldn't place his finger on what had gone wrong. On what it was that he was missing, and the piece that evaded him seemed so...simplistic.

"Well, Boss, what now?"

"Leave or stay?"

All eyes were on him as he thought to himself, weighing yet again the information that they had garnered from their collection of fortunes against his instincts.

"Let's stay."

"We still need to address the matter of Uvogin's replacement," Machi added. "And since Nobunaga let that kid get away, that leaves—"

"The Rockbell girl," Chrollo said with a nod. "I understand, but now isn't the time to discuss it. Not under these circumstances."

"Now also isn't the time for us to be short a member," Phinks countered quietly. "Not if we are still at risk of encountering the Chain User. And Winry's Nen ability — would she be useful to counter their abilities?"

Chrollo almost considered this; it was not a flawed argument and, from what he understood, Winry-san's Nen ability had not yet finished its evolution. It was still growing and changing. She might be a useful weapon to have after all. Except...

"I have dismissed the Rockbell girl already," he admitted.

Hisoka made a sound.

"Well, call her back," Phinks said. "She can't have gotten far."

"I will not," Chrollo refused softly. "She has already left Yorknew City, and has taken the auction loot with her."

"She what?"

"You let her leave with our loot?!"

"She's not even a member, how could you let her do that, Boss?"

Chrollo made a small gesture; "Nobunaga, Franklin, Feitan, Machi, Pakunoda...Phinks and Shalnark...Come to me."

They did as he bid, and he used his fingers and Nen to show them in his hands what his message was; the words he didn't want to say aloud. They didn't speak a word of protest once he had. Hisoka's head tilted to one side.

"We will discuss the matter of a thirteenth member when this is done."


	60. A Corrupted Form of Possession

_Elsewhere..._

Winry drove the truck with care, mindful of how she drove. She had been on the road for hours, but before setting out she had picked up a few caffeine-heavy canned drinks for the trip, and they left her body and mind thrumming pleasantly. The highway had long since emptied of vehicles the further she had traveled away from Yorknew City, and now she spotted other vehicles only sporadically. The truck had a GPS mounted on the dashboard, and it told her she was growing close to her destination.

That Chrollo had entrusted her like this — with the fruits of their labor — without hesitation or condition spoke more loudly than any other single action in her entire life. Had Ed even trusted her like this, ever? No. If he had, he wouldn't have tried to hide so much from her for so many years — and he'd have known better than to assume she had done the unspeakable in alchemy. Did Hisoka trust her this much?

That was harder to dwell on. What Feitan said hadn't left her; _"I didn't think Hisoka could trust someone enough to let them get that close."_ But did Hisoka genuinely trust her, or was his expression of trust merely a corrupted form of possession? She had spent months with him, trained with him, removed his arm and given him a new one, she'd had sex with him. Did he trust her? She'd told Feitan and the Troupe he didn't, but the truth was she didn't know, and she knew him well enough to realize she couldn't assume.

But her situation was painting itself more and more clearly with every passing day. Chrollo and Hisoka were on a collision course, and if she wasn't careful she would find herself in their path. Instinct told her that neither man would hesitate to kill her, however, if she were an obstacle en route to one another. There was a knot in her gut, for what if she had to choose a side? What if she had to choose one of the two men to throw her support behind if it ever came to it? Who could she trust to win?

Hisoka Morow, or Chrollo Lucilfer?

Her phone, lying flat on the dashboard, lit up dimly in the dark and vibrated loudly against the hard plastic. Winry did a double take, glancing down once, then giving a much longer look as her throat constricted.

It was Hisoka again.

Winry hesitated before she reached out and silenced the call. The cab of the truck plunged into darkness once more. She half expected him to try to call again, but he didn't. It was still hard to breathe as she turned on her directional when she took the exit for her destination.

_Glam Gas Land, 15 miles._


	61. But The Chain

"Flowers for the pretty miss?"

A man offered her a fragile glass rose that caught the rainbow lights of the street surrounding them. It cast shattered fragments of yellow, green and red across the vendor's face. Winry only held up a hand in polite decline and continued past him.

She had been in Glam Gas Land for two weeks, lying low and waiting for what would happen next. Chrollo had told her that they would come for the loot and she believed that — it had been an enormous display of trust for him to have let her leave with it. She had no intentions of letting him down.

Her boots made a satisfying thump with every step as she walked. She'd had to change her clothes to blend in better; everyone in Glam Gas Land lived on the precipice of eccentric, and many of Hisoka's nuances suddenly made sense. There were jesters and magicians, circus performers, fire eaters. She'd seen a woman walking naked with a hulking orange and black striped hunting cat the day after she arrived. Even the tourists dressed en vogue for the atmosphere, and Winry had reluctantly changed her attire to something better to blend in. She had kept her _togi_ pants, but now wore a simple brown tank under a light brown hide bustier embellished with copper buttons. She had dark brown shoulder pads and a chest holster, along with a matching utility belt slung around her hips, and wrist guards. She'd split her hair into two buns on top of her head.

The food here was as unpredictable and eclectic as its people. There were delicacies to try that she'd never heard of before. Her favorite that she'd found thus far were hemotropic butterflies that had been cooked in scalding oil, and powdered with sugar. She carried some in the satchel hanging from her arm, along with something called balut. She was willing to try things, but had quickly learned she was better off not asking what things were.

She paused outside the door to the warehouse she had been staying in, glancing to her left, right, and above her. She reached out with En to inspect her surroundings, but found nothing. Only then did she lay her palm flat against the jamb and let her aura spill out. She had used her Hatsu to meld the metal of the frame to the metal of the door, sealing it while she was gone. She'd done the same to the other doors and windows of the warehouse to ensure the loot would be safe.

A hand touched her shoulder.

Winry spun on her heel, lashing out instinctively. Her initial blow was blocked by a forearm, but she wasn't caught off-guard by it. She was still turning, and slammed her elbow up into their face. They stumbled back a step and Winry followed with a step of her own, wrapping her arm around their neck and flipped them over her shoulder. Chrollo landed flat on his back with a grimace, blood streaking his face, but didn't make a sound.

"Boss!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands in surprise.

"Winry-san."

Chrollo pushed himself to his feet, dusting his clothes off. He had changed his clothes, too. He wore a white button-up shirt with light pink pinstripes over a brown waistcoat, with plaid pants. There was a gold collar chain at his throat. His sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms, with a bandage covering his spider tattoo. He'd worn his hair down with another bandage to cover the ink on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't expected—"

"Don't apologize, it was an appropriate reaction."

Winry felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment for striking him, and quickly pushed the door open so that they could duck inside. She sealed it again behind them before turning to face him.

Something was wrong with him.

She looked at him for a long moment, lips parted as she scanned him from head to toe once, twice, thrice, and still it evaded her. Chrollo wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, the noticed her stare.

"I'm not using Ten," he said briefly, "or Zetsu."

"But—But your aura—"

"The Chain User placed a Judgment Chain in my heart. I cannot use Nen or communicate with any Troupe members, at the price of my life." Winry inhaled a sharp breath, stepping toward him. "I'm uninjured," he reassured her quickly. "The Chain User lacked the resolve to physically harm me, because the Troupe took two of their friends hostage. Calm yourself."

She hadn't even realized her hands were in fists. Winry forced her fingers to open.

"Sit down and eat. I'll tell you everything that happened in Yorknew City."

Chrollo talked while she ate, detailing their initial attack and the confusion that had followed, along with Uvogin's abduction. He told her about the Owl. He told her about the boys they had captured, and the tangled web that had led them to the Chain User.

"Nobunaga nominated one of them to replace Uvogin," Chrollo said as she ate her butterflies. "The boy was an Enhancer, like Uvogin, and strong for his age. But the boy had no interest." A pause. "Machi nominated you to become Number 11 instead."

Winry choked on her food. She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. "Machi?"

"Yes. I'm inclined to agree with her. Shalnark and Phinks also supported the nomination. And Hisoka, of course. I'm not certain his voice matters though, since he left the Troupe."

He _left?_

Chrollo read the question on her face, and nodded. "Hisoka was on the airship when the Chain User place the Judgment Chain on me. He declared he was no longer a member and challenged me to fight. But the chain was already in place, and without any Nen, he lost interest."

The laughter that bubbled out of Winry was borderline hysterical. Her head fell back and the sound echoed off the rafters and pipes.

"Two years," she choked out, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "For two years his only goal was to fight you. And when he finally finds the opening, _you have no Nen!"_

"There is a certain irony to it," Chrollo agreed, at last smiling. "But that has left two places in the Troupe to fill — once I can communicate with them again."

"So you have a plan to remove the Judgement Chain?"

"The Nostrade girl predicted I would find help to the East. I've acquired a copy of the game Greed Island, and Hisoka has agreed to go into the game to find a Nen exorcist to remove it."

"Of course." She rolled her eyes. "I question whether he lives a single moment that isn't entirely self-serving."

And, looking back, she felt it was the truth. She had known him for years now, had lived alongside him, but she doubted any moment that had transpired between them had been for her ultimate benefit and not his own. They were not _friends,_ she didn't think. Hisoka couldn't be capable of friendship. The Troupe, however, she had seen their camaraderie and closeness. How Hisoka had ever fallen into their ranks?

"His self-interest is to my benefit now and I intend to exploit it to its fullest."

"He'll want to fight you again afterward."

"He will," Chrollo agreed with a nod. "But he will be so primed to fight me by that point that he will agree to whatever terms I lay in place. It will not be advantageous for him."


	62. Your Soul At Risk

After she had eaten, Chrollo had taken himself to sleep. He had done as she did, taking a pallet and layering it with trapping from around the warehouse. It seemed long abandoned, this place where the vestiges of the past had been forgotten. Pieces from past shows were kept here, from what Winry could deduce. She had found old mirrors, platform stages that some magician had dropped through the trap door of, feather boas, racks of sequined costumes and gowns. Swords and pokers, lengths of rope. There was plenty to take to cushion a pallet for a bed. Chrollo laid his out beside hers and swiftly fell asleep.

Winry changed into her night clothes then burrowed herself under her blanket to watch the stars until her eyes could stay open no longer.

Then she dreamt.

Her sleep was restless. Her nightmares were filled with the sun and the moon, the shadows and light reaching for each other. They moved in a dervish circle, seeking each other out and dancing back, to and fro until her head spun and her legs tangled in the sheets.

 _"What could be more beautiful,"_ she heard Kimblee whisper in her ear, and felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders. _"—than doing work that puts your soul at risk, because that's what it means to be alive!"_

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breath quickening in the wake of the approaching eclipse. Then the night and light met in an eruption of flames, and Winry bolted upright in bed.

She didn't scream.

Her hand was over her mouth, but she didn't scream. Chrollo was awake all the same, watching her from his pallet with silent interest. Winry could feel him evaluating her. She lowered her trembling hand from her lips.

"What wakes you?"

"I dreamt of a friend," she murmured, her eyes wandering to the window and the crescent sliver of moon shining through the pane.

Kimblee had been more than a friend though, hadn't he. He had been Ed and Al's enemy, and her lover. They had been conspirators. Would she have made those same decisions if Ed had told her the truth? She couldn't help but wonder, though, why she dreamt of him now after so long.

"Hisoka?" Chrollo asked.

To that Winry let out a curt laugh. "Hisoka doesn't have friends. Not even me."

"Nor us."

He meant the Troupe, and he would be correct. He'd told her what had transpired in Yorknew City — Hisoka had been largely absent for the duration, uninterested in what business they had been conducting until it had left an opening for him to confront Chrollo. Winry remembered the day she, too, had realized that Hisoka's involvement with her hadn't been about her at all. She, too, had been nothing but a means to an end. Winry couldn't even bring herself to feel hurt by it because it was so completely true to who she had learned Hisoka was. Would Hisoka have her back if she ever needed it, if there was nothing in it for him? There was a knot of doubt in her chest.

"I'd like to fight you."

Winry turned to Chrollo, brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Whether you or him deny or accept the fact, you are his protege. I think it's only natural for me to thus want to fight you."

"But you have no Nen," she objected.

"I am perfectly capable of sparring without it," he shrugged. "Although I wouldn't want you to restrain yourself from using your Nen ability because of it."

He wanted to see her ability. Illumi had warned her against letting Chrollo see her Nen ability, lest he steal it for himself. She knew some of the conditions for him to take it so she should be able to avoid that. Furthermore, if Chrollo had no Nen then he wouldn't be able to take it from her to begin with.

"This way then," she invited, rolling off her pallet. Chrollo followed suit, and let her lead the way through the warehouse.

There was a corner where the previous occupants had pushed together a line of raised stage platforms with trapdoors, and she led him up the precarious makeshift stairs she'd built from crates and boxes. Winry crossed to the far end of the stage, eight feet above the ground, as Chrollo reached the landing. Winry watched as he took a dagger from his pocket — the same dagger from Yorknew City — and set it aside. She mirrored him, lying her gun on a box nearby. He carefully undid the buttons of his vest, folding it in half and placing it near his dagger, before rolling up the sleeves on his shirt to expose his forearms.

"Now then."

The fine hair on the nape of her neck rose as he squared his shoulders, preparing for her onslaught. He'd never seen her Nen ability in person, only heard of it through Machi's report. She inhaled a slow breath, her heartbeat leveling itself as she made the first move.

Winry ducked at the last moment, dropping to the ground and sweeping Chrollo's legs out from under him as he was still raising his arms to block her. He didn't land on his back the way she'd expected — he caught himself and rolled backward, evading the heel she brought down where he had been a moment before. He was back on his feet already and she was still on the ground. Winry rolled away as Chrollo leveled a front kick on her. It bought her a moment for her to get to her hands and knees, but Chrollo was already there. He kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her, then brought his elbow down on her spine when the momentum of his hit sent her flying upward.

Her vision flashed white, but she reached out with a hand, dragging her fingertips across his leg.

Chrollo leapt away from her, but she saw the translucent gleam of blood on her nail. He paused to bend and touched the place she had sliced him, his grey eyes narrowing, only to widen as he drew his fingers back, covered in blood.

"Fascinating," he marveled. "And you can reverse it?"

Winry didn't answer as she got back to her feet, moving into a narrow stance with her hands raised. The very corners of his lips slipped up into a mild smile.

"Who told you about my Skill Hunter Hatsu?" he asked, straightening his back.

"Illumi," she admitted, and his eyebrows raised.

"He told you that when you called to arrange the assassination of the Ten Dons for me?"

"No." Her leg kicked upward at his face, and he deflected her with his forearm.

"When?"

"Illumi accompanied me to Amestris a few months ago," she admitted in a gasp as she launched her other leg at him. Chrollo's head jerked away, narrowly avoiding the blow. She landed solidly on her feet, careful not to give him her back. "He was surprised when I called on your behalf."

Winry jerked away as he advanced on her, deflecting each other's hits though his landed with more frequency than her own, though she peppered in hits with her ability. She grimaced when he struck her across the face once, retaliating with her Hatsu. He blocked her from hitting his face, but she heard him let out a hiss of pain as blood blossomed from a fresh gash on his forearms. She lunged forward into the opening, slamming the sole of her foot squarely into his solar plexus. Chrollo stumbled backward, not dropping his arms. Winry slid forward, ducking beneath them, and pressed her fingertips against the soft flesh under his jaw. He paused, grey eyes dropping down to look at her.

"If you used your Hatsu for every strike," he said, his breath uneven from exertion, "your opponents would be sliced to ribbons."

"That's one potential outcome," she agreed.

Chrollo let his arms fall to his sides, "The basis of your combat techniques are solid — Hisoka has taught you well. And your Hatsu allows the advantage that every strike you make will do damage, regardless of accuracy. Very useful to level the field against more skilled opponents during hand-to-hand."

Winry laid her hand over the gash on his left forearm and closed her eyes. She felt the wound stitching itself shut under her touch. Chrollo wiped the blood on his shirt then evaluated his limb. There was only a thin, silvery scar as evidence anything had happened.

"Fascinating," he repeated again quietly. "And this is the same ability you used to seal the warehouse?"

"It's harder to use in that manner," Winry admitted. "Flesh is easiest. The doors and windows are metal to metal. Once it becomes more complex, with gears and levers, it begins to falter, and I cannot make something from nothing. Equivalent exchange, in a way."

"Equivalent exchange?" Chrollo asked.

She hesitated. She could tell him...She could warn him about Hisoka's alchemy. But, if she did that, it felt as though she would be betraying the secrets of her country. That Hisoka even knew felt like treachery. Winry only shook her head.

"Something changed in you," he said as she healed his right arm, then began to address all the smaller injuries she'd scattered across him. "When Machi arranged for us to meet, you said you'd help us, even if it meant blood needed to be spilled. I could see some reservation in your eyes then — but when you arrived in Yorknew City it was gone. What changed?"

Winry brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear as she knelt, touching the wound on his leg. Silence settled over them, but he prevailed over her as it lingered on.

"When Illumi accompanied me back to Amestris, something terrible was happening in my country. We had to fight. Then, when I returned..." Her voice trailed off. Chrollo offered a hand to help her to her feet, but she ignored it, pushing herself up on her own. "I hadn't known it, but Hisoka had Illumi abduct the man responsible for killing my parents. He would have been forgiven and set free otherwise." Her eyes closed. She felt her lower lip tremble, and her heart raced at the memory of that night. "I killed him. I'd had the opportunity taken from me over and over, and doing it...spilling his blood..."

Her fingers curled, and the thought set her teeth. At last she whispered, "I felt free. Unjudged, unbridled. For the first time in my life, I felt awake."

"And that doesn't frighten you?"

Winry thought of Ed, and his morals. How many times had clinging to those morals put his life at risk? How many times had those morals put _her_ life at risk, and everyone else around them? What about those times she had put herself in the line of danger just because of fear of hurting how Ed looked at her?

"Why should it frighten me?" she asked in a breathy whisper. "I'm not bound to what I left behind in Amestris anymore. I've been set free."


	63. Red, Orange, and Pink

_"The reason I killed all those men"_ Kimblee whispered in her ear, and she felt his lips brushing against her skin, _"was because I could. It's that simple."_

Beyond him the sky was changing. The sun and the moon were being drawn to one another, seeking each other out in their dervish circle. His fingertips danced, too, raking through her hair. In her dream, it was as though he was there beside her again. She remembered lying beside him in the sheets while he whispered in her ear: _"Tomorrow you'll come to the car and insist you accompany us. The Elrics will try to escape our surveillance, but they'll want to take you with them when they do. You'll have a radio—"_

Their brand of pillow talk had warmed her, and now she felt the memory curve along her spine. This dream — Kimblee's presence in her dream — had intensified, and become familiar. Welcome, even. It didn't frighten her anymore as she watched the sun and the moon commune. They were like magnets, inevitably drawn to one another as their paths crossed.

 _"Look straight at the people you kill; don't take your eyes off them for a second,"_ she heard him say as the eclipse cast over them. _"And don't ever forget them, because they won't forget you."_

She awoke, enveloped in the peace of his wartime words. She didn't scream anymore when the dream came to her. It was akin to a visit from a long lost friend. It was as though a new past were coming up to meet her.

Outside the window of the airship, the Republic of Tentai was far below. She had been flying over the sea that separated Tentai from Saherta for several hours, but that was behind her now, and Glam Gas Land even further in history.

Chrollo had left the next day, and members of the Troupe — Feitan, Phinks, and Machi — arrived that night to take the loot. The exchange had been brief, with only a solemn wish for their luck in finding a Nen exorcist to resolve Chrollo of his judgement chain.

And now she was free. The logical decision was for her to do as Chrollo had suggested, and go back to her work at Heavens Arena, but the thought tasted so bland as she rolled it across her tongue yet again. Did she want to go back to that mundane work? Could she? She felt as though she had at long last tasted freedom, and to go back to Heavens Arena would be to allow it to be ripped away.

She could return as a fighter. She had held her own against Chrollo Lucilfer, a Floor Master, thanks to the onesomeness of her Nen ability — she had no delusions about whether it had been her hand-to-hand skills or her Nen that had carried her so far against him. Perhaps she could have a future at Heavens Arena in this new capacity, though. Yet even the vision of that left her hungry.

Time was dwindling for her to decide as the airship drew ever close to its destination. How would she live her life if she never heard from the Troupe again? And how would she live her life if she never heard from Hisoka again?

Unimaginably, that was the hardest to fathom of all.

She had kept her word to herself, and hadn't allowed herself to return to his bed. Sex with him was too indulgent, too decadent of a luxury to afford to lose herself to. But to keep her word she had pushed him away and shut him out. She had tried to choose the Troupe over him because to do so would ease the restrictions she placed on herself, even when there had been no cause to choose between them then.

Chrollo had not told her about her nodes being opened; Hisoka had.

Chrollo had not taught her to control Nen; Hisoka had.

Chrollo had not spent months with her in Dublith teaching her how to fight; Hisoka had.

Chrollo had not delivered Scar to her; Hisoka had.

She had stood firm since the beginning that they were not friends — that Hisoka was not capable of friendship. But if this was not friendship, then what was?

And, as powerful and fiercely kind as Chrollo had been to her, Winry abruptly wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake.

Winry took her cellphone from her pocket, and scrolled down to his name. Her finger hovered over it for a prolonged moment before she pressed the button and raised her phone to her ear. It rang once. Twice. It rang until it went to voicemail. She lowered her phone slowly before returning it to her pocket.

It was the response she deserved.

She felt hollow as the airship approached its destination, the lights of Heavens Arena shining brightly to welcome her home. Winry shouldered her bag and made her way to the lines of waiting taxis outside the airport. The drive back to the arena was ripe with heavy silence.

"Winry!" the girl at the check in counter exclaimed as she walked through the door. Winry forced herself to return the greeting with a smile. "I'm so glad you're back! A man arrived here a few days ago for you. He's been waiting for you. Dr. Hirano put him in your quarters."

"A man? " Winry repeated with surprise, and she felt an eyebrow of skepticism rise. "Tall or short?"

"Very tall," the girl confirmed. "Muscular. Unusual looking."

"Thanks!" Winry called over her shoulder, already moving toward the elevators. They took too long to descend, and she went bounding up the flights of stairs instead. He was here. Hisoka was here, and why that surprised her so much she wasn't certain. She was feeling winded by the time she reached her quarters on the fifteenth floor. The door refused her card key the first two attempts from how hard her hands were trembling. At last she flung the door ajar and stepped inside, shutting and locking it behind her.

She saw the black silhouette of the man sitting on her bed, the light of the sunset burning red, orange, and pink through the flimsy curtains behind him. Her footsteps hiccuped, and her voice came out in a whisper.

"Captain Buccaneer?"


	64. Scar

"Ms. Rockbell."

So formal for a man who had kissed her and asked her to reconsider leaving Amestris for him, she mused. Captain Buccaneer rose to his feet, smoothing his palms over his cobalt slacks, and inclining his head in her direction. The length of his braided Mohawk hung over one shoulder, not a hair out of place. His mustache had grown a little longer since she'd last seen him — then was struck by the realization of how that had been only a couple months ago. So much had happened in so little time...In a matter of weeks, if she were to be blunt about it. Then it came to her, the question that by all means should have happened first:

"Why are you here?"

"You wear these Eastern fashions well," he evaded instead, his eyes traversing over her clothes.

She flushed; she was still dressed in her clothes from Glam Gas Land. It was the same brown bustier and chest harness, but today they were over a white collared shirt that she had left open at the neck. Her blonde hair was braided flat to her scalp on one side of her head, then fell loosely around her shoulders. A pair of brown goggles held her bangs away from her face. It was a far cry from his crisp, clean military uniform.

"Just blending in," she answered, dropping her bag on the floor.

"Is that so?"

He didn't hide his skepticism. Winry paused, mentally leaping through the hoops of how dangerous it would be to tell him where she had been.

"I was on vacation in Saherta. It's a more eccentric place than here," Winry said. Then she added, with a tug at the collar of her own shirt, "You can make yourself more comfortable."

"Dr. Hirano said you had left for work."

His eyes were sharp as he watched her push her bag into a corner with her foot. He didn't take her up on the offer to take off his uniform top, which didn't bode well either. Then an unnerving possibility came to mind—

Scar.

Perhaps he didn't know the details, but he — the military — might have suspicions. Scar had vanished the same time she left Amestris with Illumi, who had certainly stood out in a place like Central. The history between her family and Scar was also thinly veiled at best.

She kept her mask in place, controlling her breathing.

"Some confusion on the good doctor's part then," Winry said, giving the smallest hint of a smile. "It was for pleasure, not work."

"I wish I could say I was here for pleasure, Ms. Rockbell."

With careful control over her facial expression, she furrowed her brows and let the corners of her lips turn downward so slightly. He was still addressing her formally, keeping his uniform top on, looking for the flaws in her story. So then this _was_ about Scar. Perhaps she didn't give the soldiers of Amestris enough credit.

"Why are you here then?" she asked, then raised a hand to her lips. "Did something happen to Ed and Al?"

Buccaneer advanced a pace closer, and put the heels of his boots together, squaring his shoulders. Her suspicions about Scar were suddenly a fleeting memory, and Winry felt her lower lip tremble in earnest. He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and drew out a kerchief, then held it out in offering. The folded kerchief glared at her from his open palms, one gleaming automail. She abstractly noticed the diamond tips as she reached out to take the bundle.

Its weight caught her off-guard.

She drew back the corner to look at the pipe wrapped inside, and felt her throat close.

Winry whirled away from him, bringing her fist down on the desk behind her. Barely even conscious that she did it, she focused her Nen into her hand and the blow smashed through the wood. Its legs buckled from the force, and the desk crashed to the ground. Behind her, she heard Buccaneer saying her name, but he sounded so far away and the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud. She wasn't even aware of what she hit next. Her vision was a blur of colors. Buccaneer closed an arm around her to restrain her, but she clamped her hand on him. She heard him let out a cry. His hold dropped away, but only for a moment. The wind was knocked out of her as he pushed her against a wall, then cornered her with his body to keep her there. Winry sobbed as she beat at his chest until he managed to seize both her wrists.

"Ms. Rockbell _—Winry!"_

Restrained, the pain in her chest all-encompassing, she gave a piercing keen of anguish before she collapsed against him, crying.

She wept until exhaustion claimed her, and when she awoke again Buccaneer was still there — and Dr. Hirano with him. Winry's bleary eyes roved her room from her bed in silence, taking in the destruction she'd caused. Her desk was beyond repair, the doors of the hallway closet were broken from their hinges, and holes littered the walls.

Buccaneer was in even worse shape. He sat shirtless in a chair across from the foot of her bed, his chest swathed in bandages. What little flesh she could see was a startling hue of nightshade aubergine. His automail arm was severed just below the elbow joint.

"Winry," Dr. Hirano greeted her, avoiding meeting her eyes. "I've given you a mild sedative. How do you feel otherwise?"

Numb. Which was likely for the best. Her eyes ached. Her hands ached. Her heart ached.

"When did she die?" Winry asked instead, turning her eyes to the Captain.

Dr. Hirano cut in, "I don't think that this is the time—"

"A few weeks after you left." Buccaneer said, not backing down from her stare the way Dr. Hirano had. "The Elric brothers handled her affairs in your stead."

"Why didn't they come to tell me?"

Dr. Hirano threw her hands up in the air in defeat. Buccaneer was unperturbed by her.

"Alphonse's health has improved, he's gained weight, but he's still in no condition for a voyage across the sea. The other—" There was the slightest purse to his mouth. "—didn't believe you would want to see him."

Edward would have been right, too.

"If she needs more medication, this is my extension," Dr. Hirano said, handing Buccaneer a slip of paper. She gave Winry a sideways glance before gathering her medical bag. "I apologize that I couldn't repair your arm, Mr. Buccaneer."

"It's fine, Doctor." His gaze hadn't wavered from her. "Winry will fix it."

The doctor let her eyes flicker between the two of them before letting herself out of Winry's quarters, giving one last long, skeptical glance over the damage she had done. When the door snicked shut behind her, Buccaneer abandoned the chair to sit on the foot of her narrow mattress instead.

"It's probably for the best that neither of the Elrics came," he said, not mincing words. "I don't think either one of them would have known what to do with you."

"Probably not," she whispered in agreement.

"What was that?"

She didn't answer, instead sitting up on her elbows. Buccaneer followed her gaze to a cabinet. He stood and crossed to open it, finding a collection of glasses. He filled it with water from the tap and handed it to her. Winry drained it empty.

"Sit," she said instead after he had taken the glass and set it aside. Her mouth still felt dry as the soldier abided by her order, sitting closer to her on the bed than he had before.

Winry climbed out from beneath the sheets clumsily; the sedative was more noticeable now that she was moving. He proved he was still man when he flinched away when she began to peel away the bandages on his chest. Something Uvogin had said echoed in her ears.

_"I'm sorry there's nothing on me to fix — I'm all man, not machine."_

Well, where was the fun in that?

"What are you doing?" Buccaneer balked as she exposed a wound. The gash was deep, a clean slice that went to the bone. Guilt cut her deeper. "The doctor is going to stitch—"

"That's not necessary," Winry whispered, closing her eyes as she covered the injury with her hand, and felt it sew itself shut under her touch. He pushed her fingers away, eyes dropping to the silvery scar — the only souvenir of what she had done to him. The bruising around it had faded, too.

"What was that?" Buccaneer asked again.

Her vision was going blurry with tears as she ignored his question a second time, peeling back another layer of bandages. The injury was still fresh enough that blood began to trickle from it when she did. He seized her wrists, pushing her hands away from him.

_"What was that."_

The Captain's tone was a demand, and Winry turned her face away from him to wipe her eyes on the shoulder of her shirt.

"Just—Just let me fix it," she whispered. Begged. "This is my fault, let me fix it."

"Tell me what it is, Winry. This isn't alchemy, is it?"

"It's not," she breathed, looking away. The drugs were robbing her of her resolve and silence. She could feel her words slurring. Damn whoever had thought to send Buccaneer, he was more compelling than Edward could have ever been. "People don't use alchemy here. This is called Nen."

"What's Nen?"

"It's—It's a technique that lets you manipulate aura, your life energy. It can be harnessed, and used. Weaponized."

"And you can..." She nodded. "But you're able to reverse it?"

"Everyone develops a Nen ability that's specific to themselves," she explained, spacing her words so they wouldn't run together. Winry chuckled quietly to herself as she thought of Chrollo; even though his ability was to steal abilities, to do so was still uniquely his. "I can...cut through things, and then bring them back together again."

And she wasn't limited by just flesh anymore either. She had proven that to herself in Glam Gas Land when she had been able to seal the building. Although it had been harder, took more focus, she had been able to do it. She could use her Hatsu on _things._

"Is this why you felt like you had to leave? After the Promised Day. Is this why you wouldn't stay?"

"Yes. And no. Please, just let me—"

His grip on her wrists had loosened, and Winry pulled a hand free then covered the bleeding wound before he could protest further. He didn't though, instead watching with invested interest as the bruising around her hand faded. There was another slender scar when she drew away.

"Why would you leave because of this?" Buccaneer asked, watching her with veneration.

"Ed didn't understand."

"Damn good I came in his place then." Winry managed to crack a smile for a moment, then began crying all over again. "I brought your grandmother's things with me."

"You did?" It came out as barely a whisper, but he nodded.

"The Arena has the crates stored in the basement. Whenever you're ready, we'll go through them."

Her gut told her she wouldn't enjoy these crates nearly as much as she had the last.


	65. They Unearthed

She had tried to use her Hatsu to repair Buccaneer's severed automail, but she had only succeeded with fusing a few wires and levers back together. It was still too intricate and beyond her capabilities. She had no choice except to confront the crates of belongings if she had a hope in Hell of repairing it. Winry couldn't believe she had done that to his diamond-tipped M19 Mad Bear arm to begin with. So she made short work of healing the rest of the injuries he'd sustained while restraining her, and the Captain had pulled on a clean white undershirt. It had no sleeves, and left him baring his automail — stares and whispers had followed them through the hallways of the Arena.

The Arena had stored the crates Buccaneer had brought with him in the basement levels of the building where the supply deliveries were kept. When they had reached the privacy of the lower floors, they had had a brief conversation where he asked if her Hatsu was also how she saved his life on the Promised Day — after admitting the memories and details of that day were faded and hard to recall. Until now he hadn't even been certain what he _did_ remember was true, it had been that unfathomable.

It wasn't as many crates as Illumi had brought from Resembool, but close. Winry wandered whether her grandmother had known even then that her time was short. She wandered if maybe the Promised Day had stolen time from her grandmother that she would have had otherwise. Months, Maybe even years. Then she wondered if time had been stolen from her, too.

Buccaneer made short work of prying each crate open exposing the contents within, even with only one arm. Tears came fresh as Winry laid her palms on her grandmother's clothes, her work gloves, her dishes and pans. There were trinkets and tokens that had lived on the shelves of her grandmother's home for as long as Winry could remember. She walked away entirely when they unearthed her parents' journals.

Ed and Al had sent her the entirety of her grandmother's home with care, and she felt her heart breaking over and over again with every crate. The memories were vibrant and colorful. Even the smell, that sweet blend of oil, leather, and flour, made the very depths of her soul ache.

"I don't even know what to do with all this," she laughed through her tears as she surveyed the sheer amount of stuff surrounding them — and she couldn't forget about the rest of it, still in Hisoka's suite. Winry lapsed into silence while Buccaneer returned everything to its crate, shutting it.

She had all of the equipment she needed to found her own automail shop, she realized. And, with the pieces of furniture that Buccaneer had brought, she had what she needed for her own home even. She had the money to do it, too. She had made more than a decent living before ever coming to this side of the sea, and Chrollo had wired her the money he'd promised for her assistance in Yorknew City.

She had the capital to fund herself. But was there merit to building automail here?

"You're quiet," Buccaneer said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Just contemplating what to do," she murmured, sitting down on the ground with her legs folded under her. "I had meant to open my own automail business."

"You should."

"People here don't use automail," she explained. "It might be for nothing."

"No automail? That explains some of the looks I got on the way down."

She knew the words that were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say them. She was grateful he didn't say them because she wasn't sure if she could withstand it yet.

"I have more equipment," she said. "It's stored in—" The slightest pause in her speech. "—a friend's quarters while I was gone."

"You'll have to find it all a permanent home." Again, he restrained himself from saying what she knew he was thinking, and she was again silently grateful for his sense of discretion.

His sense of discretion still prevailed several days later, after she had found an internet listing for a building outside the metropolis surrounding Heavens Arena. And it prevailed even when she had gone to inspect the space without him. It was a small cottage with an adjoined workshop, nestled back into the tree line against the young peaks of a mountain range. It had been a modest forty-minute drive from the Arena, and the realtor had told her most of the sparse neighbors in the area were other members of the Arena's medical team who had no desire to live in such close quarters to the fights anymore. The money transfer and signing documents had taken longer than the drive.

"I've arranged for a truck to come tomorrow to load up the crates," she told Buccaneer when she had returned. Although she hadn't thought of how she would get the crates from Hisoka's suite yet. He had not seen fit to return her call, and she wasn't willing to grovel by calling more.

She would need to figure it out herself.

In the dark, after Buccaneer had fallen asleep on the small cot she'd had brought to her quarters for him, Winry stepped into the staff elevator at the end of the darkened hall and took rode it to his floor, taking a trolley with her.

She laid her palm flush against the lock to his door, and let her Hatsu slip inside. The sensation was akin to when she had helped Uvogin, her search narrow and specific. At last she felt the lock give.

Winry turned the handle and pushed the door open, one hand behind her on the trolley to pull it inside the dark suite behind her.

A hand closed around her throat, slamming her against the wall, her feet dangling.

"This is a surprise," was whispered in her ear.


	66. To Be Encompassed

"Illumi," Winry rasped, wrapping her hands around his forearm, ready to use her Hatsu against him but hoping he wouldn't take this that far.

"What are you doing breaking into Hisoka's quarters?"

"Put—me— _down."_

Illumi paused before lowering her to the ground, his grip on her throat loosening only so slightly but it was enough for her to suck in a quick breath. Enough for the growing darkness on the edge of her vision to ebb.

"I'm here for my equipment," she said. "My crates of automail equipment are here."

Illumi paused then, turning to look over his shoulder. Looming in the shadows of Hisoka's suite hulked the crates in question. There was a prolonged moment where Illumi evaluated them carefully.

"Thank you," Winry added on, "for warning me about Chrollo's Hatsu."

The man's big eyes roved back to her, widening further.

"Did Chrollo attempt to—"

"I don't know for sure. He claimed his Nen was restricted by a Judgement Chain, but I used what you told me to avoid the requirements for his Hatsu."

Illumi let her go.

"All you want are the crates?"

"Yes."

Despite all he'd done in Amestris, he had never struck her as the particularly helpful sort. But he assisted in lifting each crate up onto the trolley, and opened the door again when she returned with it empty. With his abbreviated assistance, it took less time than it would have if she had had to do it alone. As she pushed the trolley with the final crate toward the door, Winry paused to look back over her shoulder.

"Is Hisoka still helping Chrollo?" she asked.

Illumi nodded. "Yes. He is on Greed Island as we speak."

She wanted to ask where Greed Island was, but the answer wouldn't matter. Hisoka wasn't here and, it was likely why he hadn't returned her phone calls, too. As for why that possibility hadn't occurred to her before this, she wasn't sure what had dulled her to that potential, but in hindsight she felt like an idiot for not realizing the correlation sooner.

She tilted her head forward in goodbye, and let the door shut behind her as the trolley followed her out of Hisoka's suite. All in all, the task had been less troublesome than she'd initially anticipated. The sheer volume of crates was almost overwhelming. Winry stood back and stared at them — her entire life from Amestris, boxed up and ready to be encompassed by the life she was preparing to build here instead.

"What are you doing down here?" Buccaneer's voice spoke up from behind her. "Looks like there are more now than there were this afternoon."

"There are," Winry affirmed. "I was able to get the other crates from my—" Another hiccup in her speech. Why was it _so_ hard to address Hisoka as a friend still? "—friend."

"So this is everything then?" Winry nodded. Buccaneer's hand fell on her shoulder. "Then come back to bed."

She let him guide her to the elevator, then to her quarters. The Captain didn't sit down on his cot. Winry stood back, watching, as he sat on hers instead. The lights of the city behind him, outlining the breadth of his silhouette, were reminiscent of when she had found him waiting for her that first night. Except tonight she could see the lights gleaming on his destroyed automail. She still needed to fix that for him.

He held out his hand to her, and she thought of Kimblee.

Her dreams of him hadn't abated, but they were no longer frightening. His voice whispering in her ear, _"Shoutings of agony are like lullabies for me,"_ before the Sun and the Moon collided again in an array of fire and ash.

Buccaneer was a good person. Better than she.

She ignored his outstretched hand as she sat beside him, her fingertips pushing him to lay back on the bed. Then she laid beside him, resting her head in the crook of his automail arm and savoring the coolness of the metal against her cheek. And Buccaneer, a good person — better than she — only rested his chin on the top of her head.

If she had chosen to go to Buccaneer's room instead of Kimblee's that night at Brigg's, then perhaps she would have been in a room with him in North City now instead of this room in Heavens Arena. And that realization was too much to bear.

So she closed her eyes, and locked the thought away instead.


	67. The People You Kill

The taxi led the way out to the countryside, with the moving truck following two car lengths behind. Buccaneer looked less than comfortable squeezed into the backseat beside her, his head bouncing off the roof with every bump and taking up three-quarters of the seat. Fortunately for him, however, the drive was nearly over. Winry wondered briefly whether she should consider buying a car as well, or if a bicycle would be sufficient for the trip back to the city when necessary.

She’d awaken more intimate with Buccaneer than she had intended, rolled over into him with her cheek resting on the firmness of his chest. Her arm had been draped across so that her fingers could tangle in the weave of his braid. On his part, he’d turned in her direction and his big hand was flush against the small of her back to keep her close. Their legs had been intertwined. They’d fallen asleep on top of the blanket, but she had awoken bleary and warm in his grasp — and gently removed herself from it before he stirred.

Her dreams of the Sun and the Moon had played themselves over again last night, with Kimblee whispering away.

“Look straight at the people you kill, don’t take your eyes off them for a second.”

“Your grandmother lived out of the way, too,” Buccaneer commented, then grimaced as the car hit another bump and he ricocheted off the ceiling.

“It had been her parents’ home, and then hers, and then my parents,” she said, a fond smile cross her lips as she avoided his eyes, her fingers curling. The memory that crossed her mind wasn’t that of her parents themselves, but how she had exacted revenge. The image of Scar bound to her table would delight and warm her for the rest of her life when no one else could.

“It could be your home, too.”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“It could,” she agreed, “but I don’t want to spend my life with Ed coming back every month just because he can’t stay out of trouble.”

He knew she was jesting. But she knew there was no reason she couldn’t. She was a different person in Amestris than she was here, and — for what she had been through — she liked the person she was here more. For the second time in a matter of hours, she wondered how differently things would have gone...

If she had shot Scar the first time she met him.

If she had just made Ed deal with the repercussions of her killing Scar then and there, instead of how she had let him continue to put her in the position where she had to coexist alongside her parents’ murderer.

If she had refused the request to go to Briggs the way she’d originally intended.

If, in her anger at Ed while she was there, she had turned to Buccaneer instead of Kimblee.

And, for a moment, without her bidding or permission, the image came to mind of what it would have been like if she’d done the latter. She might have been a soldier’s wife, living in a quaint home in North City — in a house not too dissimilar from this, with a workshop attached where she could have had her automail business. Or maybe she’d have stayed at the base, and worked on automail for the soldiers there. At night they’d have slept in a bed warm with furs and each other’s bodies for those small hours when the fire had banked to an ember.

The car met another bump, and she was all but tossed into his lap. Neither of them spoke as she disentangled herself and slid back into the narrow space she had for herself as the taxi rounded the corner, and the house came into sight.

Though it was the workshop that she actually saw first.

There was a small storefront; a window and door, with a mounted sign. There was a stone path leading to its door, but it split and the second path led to the door in back — the entrance to the home. The roof tiling was shingles and tar, but the last owner had laid thatching over it as well. The building itself was stone, comprised of silver-grey rocks that had been concreted together. With regard to the workshop, this was perfect — a lower chance of the building catching fire if something went awry while she was welding.

Buccaneer crossed his arms as he got out of the car, surveying it in his serious silence. She knew he disliked this development — it meant she was staying. That she was putting down roots here. That it would be no easy process to convince her to go back to Amestris with him.

She didn’t want to be convinced anyway.

“It suits you,” he admitted grudgingly as the truck drove up on the grass, close to the building. The driver and his cohort hopped out.

“You just tell us where it’s going.”

Two hours later the truck was empty. She’d bought a mattress and that laid on the floor of the room she intended to be hers, but she was most focused on setting up her workshop. It smelled vaguely of black tea. Though one armed, Buccaneer proved to be a sufficient assistant. He was easy to work alongside. Once the necessities of the room were laid out, she pointed him to the exam chair.

“Sit.”

Buccaneer did as she bid with surprising compliance, putting his severed arm on the rest for her to evaluate. Winry tied her hair back and leaned in close, taking a flashlight from her table and turning it on, studying the prosthetic then looking at the other half, laid out on a table.

“A clean break,” she said. “It should be a simple weld with regard to the exterior. The interior I’ll have to replace the wiring, and a few gears were damaged with the cut. The most problematic piece is going to be—”

“I don’t want the same arm.” Her eyes flickered up to him, confused. “I want one of those Rockbell custom pieces.”

“I can do that,” she said, trying not to stammer over her own words as she turned off the flashlight. “I don’t know your timeframe to return to Briggs, but I can charge the rush fees to the military.”

“I’m in no rush.”

Winry’s head bobbed up and down.

“I should be able to have it done in about a week then. Maybe more though since I’d need to unpack some more of my fabricating equipment. In the meantime, I have a spare arm in one of these crates you can wear. It won’t be the right size, but it’ll give you more mobility.”

“Sounds good,” Buccaneer rumbled. “Let’s do it.”

Buccaneer left to change into one of his sleeveless undershirts, and she turned to the crates scattered around her workshop. There was a curtain covering the window that faced the forest behind the house, and she crossed to push it aside and let more light shine inside the room. Dust sifted down on her, sparkling in the sunlight, and Winry stumbled away from the window as fast as her feet would let her, putting her hand over her chest. In the beautiful stained glass window, a thousand pieces of yellows, reds, and blues, was a Sun and Moon.


	68. The Price It Would Cost

For years Ed had been the pinnacle of her automail creativity. He had forced her to rethink design after design, developing new parts and pieces specifically for him. But with Buccaneer committed to forsaking his — _wistful sigh_ — M19 Mad Bear prosthetic, she found herself again sketching design after design and finding nothing worthy enough to be its successor. Self-doubt and cups of coffee fueled her through the hours of scratching away at paper. How could she, an automailer from a small town in the southeast, build something better than the M19?

She slept in her workshop that night, with the windowcast of the Sun and the Moon rippling across her face. Her dream was no longer the comfort it had been; it was uneasy and agitated. Kimblee's voice was urgent. She could feel the weight of hands on her shoulders, his nails digging in and the lines of his tattoos burning through the well-worn linen of her shirt.

Buccaneer found her bent over the quenching vat when he entered the workshop the next morning, carrying a plate for her with him. He didn't speak; there was a moment of eye contact, and he set the plate aside on a table then made himself comfortable on a crate to watch. She worked through the day, cutting and grinding, moving to the bending machine. It would be a lie if she said she'd worked with proportions like these before. Building Buccaneer's arm was closer in circumference to building a man's leg. She saw now why his arm had been fully modified and specially crafted; no off-the-shelf model could have fit him. His prolonged presence made it easier for her in some ways, whenever she worried she'd somehow written numbers reversed he was there for her to remeasure without a word.

He left once when someone arrived at the house, and it might have made her laugh to see his confusion when they explained they were there to connect the television as well as the computer. Instead she remained engrossed in her world of carbon fiber and aluminum. She refashioned the connector from the severed end so that he would still be able to connect his other M19 extensions to it as he pleased. The diamond-tipped claws she also recycled into the new model, unwilling to surrender what was arguably her favorite feature and had certainly cost him a fortune. The sunshine gleaming through the stained glass window faded, and moonlight streamed in to take its place. Buccaneer exchanged her untouched plate of food for another, but she didn't notice that either as she worked, surrounded by the bright standing lights of her shop. When that plate went ignored as well, he exchanged it for bringing coffee instead.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, and maybe it had been, she didn't dream of the eclipse. Kimblee's velvet words didn't creep down her spine. Later — much later, long enough that there was nothing she could do — she'd realize her head was clearer, and that a knot in her chest had lessened. Had she realized it sooner then maybe she wouldn't have made the decisions she would in the coming days. Maybe when Buccaneer asked her that question, her answer would've been different. Instead her thoughts were shorter; shallow. Nostalgia of remembering how Ed would be over her shoulder while she tried to work, a stark contrast to Buccaneer's quiet observation. Ed hadn't ever brought her coffee either, and it would've done wonders to keep him in her good graces during those all nighters working on his automail. Working with Buccaneer's company was quiet and pleasant.

She had to form several of the springs herself; none of the springs included with any of her crates would have worked for the sheer size his automail needed to be, and she'd severed his. She was able to transfer the pneumatic actuators from the old arm, fortunately, because once she saw them she realized they had been custom-built, too. It would've taken her days more of work to make those, while the springs had been comparatively a short project.

At the end of the second night, sleep overcame her — and her dream jarred her awake, the comfort in it shattered. Winry inhaled a trembling breath as she awakened, glancing around the dark room in quiet confusion before realizing Buccaneer must have moved her to her bed. She found the shower, then dressed and returned downstairs to her workshop, and she didn't leave again until the arm was finished.

Another thing she would realize, months later when all was said and done, was what these days reminded her of; Izumi and Sig's home in Dublith. Their synchronicity in proximity of one another. It would take far less time — a matter of only a few days, actually — to realize the silent contentment in the atmosphere of her small home with him there. But again, by then it would be too late.

"How many times have you done this?" she asked when Buccaneer waved away her offer of a leather strip to bite when she was ready to connect his arm to the housing unit.

"Every time I want to switch models," the Captain answered casually. "I probably have a dozen different types of arms back at Briggs. Whenever you're ready, just attach it."

Winry took him at his word, and locked it in. His spine went rigid and he grimaced, but that was the only sign she'd done anything to him at all. She'd seen stronger reactions from grown men getting an injection. Even Ed, who'd solemnly sworn that whatever he'd suffered would be nothing compared to what Alphonse had gone through, broke more than that every time she installed a new limb.

Buccaneer swung his legs off the exam table and began to rise. She reached out, touching two fingers to his chest and pushing him back down with the slightest shove with her Nen. His face was almost comical, caught entirely off-guard by the ease in the action.

"I didn't want to compromise its use for common wear," she explained, bending his arm, "so I didn't go with anything too robust. But there's a barrel in the forearm that takes .45 rounds. The trigger is here. You'll want to practice at the range before putting it to practical use. A lot of builders tend to put them in the joints, but depending on how much it's use all that recoil will eventually cause a malfunction, which is why I chose the forearm instead. Here's where you activate the laser sight—"

"Laser sight?"

The question caught her as off-guard as he had when she'd pushed him back down. It took her a long moment to remember that Amestris didn't have that kind of technology yet. Instead of explaining, however, she simply slid open the panel again and pressed the button, then pointed to the red dot on the wall across for him.

"To help you aim."

She had done everything she thought appropriate for a soldier; another panel slid aside for a sheathed dagger to drop out, while a short switchblade had been installed near the wrist. She'd remembered how the M1913-A Crocodile operated with its gas-powered chainsaw, and had installed a small motor — not required for regular function if he preferred not use it — he could run gasoline through to warm the automail and housing unit, to protect his shoulder from frostbite where metal met flesh. She had installed the diamond-tipped claws exactly as they had been.

"You're a piece of work," he marveled to his automail as he looked it up and down once more when she finally let him off the table.

"It's not a Mad Bear," Winry admitted, "but I can say with confidence it's the best thing I've ever built."

"We should celebrate then."

Winry took out her phone and glanced at the date.

"It's Friday, there should be a televised 200th floor match." Her brow creased. "But they never came to install the hook ups for the television. Damn."

"They came four days ago."

The rest of the day passed swiftly. She washed, and when she returned downstairs they cooked together, side-by-side. When the match came on — it was Dorado versus a young boy named Zushi. Winry wasn't even aware of how she kept pausing the television, using Gyo while she watched then explaining to Buccaneer what was happening that he couldn't see. The boy was giving Dorado Hell though, and the commentators made a point to say how close he was to challenging a Floor Master. It was hard to imagine a child being on par with the likes of Hisoka and Chrollo, but if he had had gotten this far then who knew.

"He's using Ko," she was explaining, "in his fists. It's what I did earlier so that you would sit. But Dorado is focusing on using Shu, concentrated in the blades of his—"

Winry tore her eyes away from the screen to see Buccaneer reclining back on the settee, eyes watching her with amusement. Her voice lapsed into silence and she dropped her eyes, embarrassed. There was a strong moment of déjà vu, and she remembered the look Sig had given her when she'd waxed poetic about airships. Their expressions were completely different, but his focus on her suddenly made her too aware that she was rambling.

"Why did you stop?"

She had no answer. He beckoned for her to come sit beside him, and she did as the fight continued to play on the screen behind her. Winry let him draw her into the crook of his arm and drape a blanket over her while they watched the match. Occasionally he asked what had happened, and she would use turn it back several frames and explain.

Then he asked another question; the one she had known he'd put off and delayed through the whole time he'd been here.

"Come back to Amestris?"

Her mind hadn't changed, and she shook her head no. Then he asked a question she hadn't foreseen; "What if I stayed."

And for a moment she could see it. She saw them side-by-side in the kitchen every night. She saw him bringing her coffee while she lost herself in the process of creation. She saw this moment, together doing nothing special but content with that much, as how they ended every night. What if he stayed?

Then she imagined when Chrollo and the Troupe arriving on her doorstep, their offer of a place in their ranks still warm. She imagined kissing Buccaneer goodbye while she left to live her sordid life, and washing the blood off her hands before returning home to him. She imagined sleeping beside him at night while she dreamt of killing Scar. She imagined his reaction when one day — and it would happen one day, because secrets inevitably always find the light — he learned the truth.

"I would like that," she whispered, blinking the haze from her eyes, "but I don't think you should."

Because she knew that if Chrollo came, though she could decline, she wouldn't want to. Because alongside the Spiders she finally felt as though she'd found her place. Because she wasn't willing to pay the price it would cost for Buccaneer to stay.

Buccaneer didn't push her away or leave. If anything, his arm around her held her a little tighter, as though savoring this while it lasted. The exhaustion from her long nights working overcame her and she fell asleep, comfortable in his grasp, and she dreamt of the Sun and the Moon until she heard Hisoka's voice drawl, "Am I intruding?"


	69. Blood Wet

Winry's eyes snapped open. Her first instinct was to push herself up and off the couch, but she worried that would put Buccaneer on the defense. Already she knew he was; his entire body had gone rigid beside her. The situation didn't need to be exacerbated by panic. What was Buccaneer thinking for this strange man to walk into her home, wearing heels with a tear and a star painted under each eye, as though he belonged.

"This is Hisoka, my...friend," she said, turning her head to Buccaneer slightly so that their eyes met. Had she ever referred to him as a friend before? Winry looked back to Hisoka, and her stomach twisted into a knot as the corners of Hisoka's lips curled upward in a smile that she knew at his core was cruel.

"Friends?" he repeated back, a quiet scoff on its heels. "You're too generous."

"Silly me," Winry breathed and bit the inside of her cheek. "Have a seat."

Something ached inside her chest, in that same place she'd been struck with pain when Edward had levied his accusations at her; _You just don't know when to shut up, do you._ Except in a way this hurt more. By the time Ed had unleashed his anger at her, she had already resolved most of her feelings toward him. With Hisoka, however, she knew that her silent revelation that she did, in fact, consider him a friend was merely the tip of the iceberg. But, unlike with Ed, she wasn't willing to let Hisoka bear witness to her tears.

"I'm afraid I'm here for business, not pleasure," he lamented as he held up his hand for her to see the unnatural angles of his fingers.

Anger pulsed through her. It was more familiar than her grief, and it was sweet relief in the face of pain. Anger sharpened her senses and took command. Winry didn't try to beat it back. Instead she let it take her, filling her lungs like sea water, bitter and dark.

"What did you do," she snarled, launching herself to her feet and out of Buccaneer's warmth.

"What I was hired for."

"Finding an exorcist didn't need to involve ruining my automail."

For only a moment his eyes narrowed and she saw the realization arrive at its destination about what it meant for her to know that much. She grabbed his arm and pulled it toward her, bending to survey the damage, then glared at him again.

"Take it off."

Hisoka's expression was too cheeky for his own good as he slid his other hand over the injured fingers, removing the top layer of Texture Surprise. She could see the glittering of metal from underneath around the joints of the fingers; he had covered the damage with another layer to conceal his automail.

"This layer, too."

She could feel Buccaneer's eyes on them, watching. Would he realize this was Nen at work? Hisoka's hand glided down his arm, exposing his automail for her to see. The joints of the fingers were in even worse condition than she had suspected, and her head fell back in frustration, biting the inside of her cheek.

His smirk grew. She wanted to hit him and the bastard knew it. If Buccaneer wasn't here she might have, but her instincts said Hisoka would have retaliated against her even more strongly with an audience to watch. And, for all that Buccaneer had proven himself to be, he would be no match again Hisoka who had both Nen and alchemy.

"How many days to fix it?" Hisoka asked, his eyes straying to Buccaneer pointedly.

"In one, maybe two."

"I think you can do it in one," Buccaneer said with confidence that would have warmed her otherwise, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. She hadn't heard him leave his seat. "I'll be calling a car to take me to the airport tomorrow early tomorrow."

Her hand clenched into a fist. Tomorrow. Damn. Damn Hisoka to Hell.

"I haven't set up the patient quarters upstairs yet, but I can lay the mattress out for you at least."

"That won't be necessary. I don't intend to stay the night."

"In that case you can come back tomorrow morning and I'll start work then." She gestured down the hallway. "I'll see you out."

Winry struggled to quell her rage as she followed Hisoka to the door. She could feel her arms and legs trembling from its strength, still keeping the pain from his insult and dismissal at bay while she chided herself in the silence. She was a fool for ever convincing herself that Hisoka was a person capable of accepting friendship, never mind returning it. Whatever weakness had allowed her to let that misconception fill her head would need to be quashed before it led to a far more dire mistake.

"Did Chrollo or the Troupe tell you what happened?" he asked, pausing at the door.

Instead she shouldered past him to wrap her hand around the knob, beginning to turn it. Hisoka swiftly blocked her way and put his weight against the the door to keep her from opening it, crossing his arms over his chest. Winry pursed her lips together, tilting her head back to glare at him.

"Chrollo did."

"Here?"

"No. You wasted the element of surprise though. He'll be ready for you next time."

"Chrollo has already agreed to fight me," Hisoka replied. He stared down his nose at her, smiling darkly and radiating satisfaction.

"What are the terms?"

"We will fight at Heavens Arena in four weeks, in a battle to the death." His amber eyes narrowed. "You doubt me."

She hadn't even realized the expression on her face that had given her away. but in the years she had known Hisoka he had not demonstrated himself to be careless. He was a cruel and calculating, patient. But he hadn't shown to be prone to folly. Chrollo had been right; for the opportunity to fight him, Hisoka would sacrifice his every advantage.

_He will be so primed to fight me by that point that he will agree to whatever terms I lay in place. It will not be advantageous for him._

"Even with alchemy," she whispered, "I don't know that you can defeat him if you fight him on his chosen ground."

He flashed her his teeth when he spoke next. There was no more toying, playful amusement on his face. He was angry. She'd struck him with an insult of the highest charge.

"With all you have seen," he hissed, advancing on her, "you doubt me. I saved your life, taught you Nen, armed you."

Winry backed away but in two steps felt the cool wall on her spine, preventing further retreat. Flight was not an option. She dug her heels in and raised her chin. She could feel Hisoka's bloodlust tiptoeing over her skin like pinpricks. His rage made his voice grow quieter.

"I delivered the Ishvalan terrorist to you."

"You look just like him now," Winry whispered. "A dead man walking."

Hisoka snatched her by the neck, wrapping both his hands around her throat with crushing pressure and lifting her in the air. Flight wasn't an option. Winry grabbed each arm in a hand, remembering Ed.

_You can't imagine what you've done._

Hisoka's automail arm suddenly dropped away, hanging limp and useless at his side. The resounding _crack_ of bone filled her ears and Hisoka's other hand released her, dropping her to the ground. Winry landed in a crouch, but didn't waste her momentum as she lunged upward, returning the gesture of taking his throat in her hands. She could feel her Nen as she had felt his, crackling and lashing in its electricity. His blood wet her palms.

"I don't want to see you die," she gasped, blinking to clear her eyes and realizing only then there were tears. His eyes gleamed, filled with lust, as he looked down at her while blood trickled down onto his chest.

"Because you are my _friend?"_ Hisoka taunted.

Winry recoiled and he shook her off, then touched his throat with curiosity, exploring the shallow wound. His chest rose and fell heavily. She bit her lip and took a step away from him, but raised her chin in defiance.

"You'd be wasting your time," Winry whispered, tasting the bitterness and sting in her familiar words. "You aren't ready."

She heard a hammer cock back, and Winry shoved her way in front of Hisoka, arms extended.

"Don't shoot," she gasped.

Buccaneer raised the barrel instead, aiming for Hisoka's head. She knew Hisoka was smiling, and she could only imagine what the sight must look like; the eccentric magician covered in blood with that salacious grin.

"You said you were leaving," the Captain said, unwavering. "Right."

Hisoka exhaled a hiss of breath. He was excited. Winry grabbed the knob to pull the door open, but Hisoka's foot was still wedging it shut and the blood on her hands made her fingers slip off fruitlessly. She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder. Winry glanced up. His eyes were locked with Buccaneer's.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Hisoka announced.

He opened the door and the darkness encompassed him, swallowing him whole. Winry slammed the door behind him and locked it. She wiped her hands on her pants. Buccaneer tucked his revolver away. It would've been useless against Hisoka anyway. Buccaneer, who had no alchemy and had no Nen, was but cannon fodder on this side of the sea. It was safer for him to leave. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, grimacing.

"I can stay longer."

"I'm not afraid of him," she lied, offering him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I don't lose sleep over Hisoka the Magician."


	70. Regards

When her dreams of the Sun and the Moon gave way to the dawn, Winry awoke to Hisoka perched at the foot of her bed, shuffling his cards from one hand to the other. She heard the irregularities in the rhythm caused by his broken fingers. The morning light gleamed off his exposed automail. He squared his shoulders when she moved to sit up, and there was a hiccup in the movement of his cards but only for a moment. The pillow and blanket on Buccaneer's side of the bed had been straightened, and she immediately knew he had already left.

She felt a hollowness inside.

"Should you ever stop being such a onesome creature, mink," Hisoka said, not glancing back at her as she left the blankets and dressed in her clothes from the floor, "I would feel inclined to kill you."

"You say that as though it will keep you in my good graces."

She pulled a shirt over her head and left the room, trodding down the stairs. Behind her, she could hear the quieter sounds of Hisoka following her into her workroom.

"Sit."

Hisoka reclined onto her work table gracefully. Winry sat on her stool, back to him, and rolled her tool table in his direction. She flinched as she faced him. There was dried blood crusted down the front of his shirt, trailing from a jagged, shallow slice encircling his throat. His tongue emerged from the corner of his lips.

"Do you like it?"

"You deserved it. Take it off."

Hisoka pulled the bloodstained shirt off over his head and dropped it onto the ground beside the table. The remnants were stark against his pale ivory skin. Winry pulled a pair of magnifying goggles around the crown of her head before she leaned in, and carefully disconnected the nerve endings at the housing unit so that she could work without him in discomfort, though the thought crossed her mind not to bother. She disconnected the fingers, cursing as she surveyed the damage.

"How long to fix it?"

"I should be able to do it by the end of the day," she said. "The damage seems to be focused in the hinges, none of the wiring has been affected." Winry pulled her goggles down over her eyes, then glanced up at him with a frown. The goggles hyper focused her line of vision on his face. "There's a bathroom off the hallway upstairs. Go clean yourself."

"Hmh."

He left, and she lapsed into her work sullenly. She thought about Buccaneer while she worked, wondering when in the night he had left. The house didn't feel different with his absence; he had always been quiet while she worked. She heard the sound of the pipes when Hisoka turned on the shower.

She wasn't certain why she was even bothering fixing his automail outside the obligation that accompanied each installation. What had transpired the night before — how he'd thrown her words in his face — was sufficient to sever their tie. Every time she had denied calling him a friend, she had been right. Even when she had called him a friend to Sig, she'd been lying — and Sig had known she was lying.

Hisoka was not capable of friendship.

She was vaguely aware of when he returned to her workshop. She didn't hear him; his footsteps were not heavy and robust like Buccaneer's. She just felt him there. Winry ignored him and kept working. She jumped and pulled off her goggles, startled, when several hours later he noisily laid a plate down near her elbow.

"What's this?" she asked, glancing at him with suspicion and realizing suddenly that she _was_ hungry. His hair was still damp and hung around his face, and he hadn't repainted his star and tear yet. He was, bizarrely, wearing one of her oversized work shirts with his pants.

"Sustenance."

"Why?"

"You'll need your strength for when we fight later."

Winry's expression soured, and she pushed the plate away hard. Hisoka's eyes widened with surprise. He put out a hand and stopped it from skidding off the work table as she rose to her feet, and shoved him away.

"No," she snapped. She shook her head back and forth, biting her lip. "I won't let this happen to me again. To come and go with no regard, to insult me, to take it for granted that I'll be here and just fix whatever you break. That I'll just do as you please. I won't." She shoved him again. "Though at least Ed had the decency to be my friend through it all."

Hisoka's lips parted, but Winry held up her hand, cutting him off.

"No," she said once more. "I won't spar you, I won't fuck you, and I won't be _your mechanic."_ She spat the words at him. "I don't exist to be used."

His brow creased so slightly in displeasure, but he turned his back on her and walked out without a word. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she heard the front door open, then shut. She wanted to fling his fingers across the room, but she couldn't bring herself to damage her own work like that. She considered not finishing the repairs, but she wasn't able to do that either — not knowing that she was the only automailer on this side of the sea. Damn it.

Winry slumped back over her table and kept working. She didn't hear Hisoka return. She didn't hear when he retired for the night; she wasn't even sure where he had gone off to sleep. But she at last sat up, pushing her hands against her lower back and arcing in a stretch. That was when she saw another plate of food sitting on her tool bench a few feet away. She stared at it for a long minute before grabbing it and carrying it upstairs to her room.

The plate was cold and the food nothing special, but she ate. Then she showered and laid in bed, sliding her hand over the other side of the mattress, where Buccaneer had slept only the night before. Something crinkled underneath the blanket.

She drew the blanket and sheet down, and she found a folded slip of paper. Winry closed her eyes, inhaling deep into her chest, before opening it.

* * *

_Winry,_

_I regret leaving like this, but if I wait until you're awake to say goodbye it's unlikely I'll be able to leave at all._

_I found one item in you grandmother's safe when I was packing her belongings to bring to you here. It is a red sealed box, packed with her clothes._

_Please be careful, and show good judgement. If you ever need help, don't hesitate. If you are ever in danger know that there will always be safety for you in Amestris._

_We will meet again._

_B_

* * *

Winry abandoned her bed in favor of going to the last upstairs bedroom; it would eventually be a second patient quarters, after she finished going through her grandmother's things. She knew the crate he meant; each had been meticulously labeled, and she found it easily now in the far corner. She laid her hands against the seam of the crate and split it open with her Hatsu.

She laid the lid aside and plunged her arms into the clothes packed inside. She tried to ignore the familiar smell of her grandmother and the knot that formed in her chest at her memory. Her knuckles brushed across something cold and firm; Winry wrapped her hand around and pulled it out.

It was a red steel box, and her grandmother's familiar welds around it held it shut. Her Hatsu made short work of those, too. The box opened into halves, and she found a black jewelry box with an envelope inside. She squinted in the darkness at the wax seal, and the tattoo of her heart grew loud and unsteady.

The Sun and the Moon.

Her fingers trembled as she broke the seal and drew out the note inside, read it once. Twice. Thrice.

_I entrust this to you._

Her fingers trembled as she took the jewelry box in hand.

_If I survive The Promised Day, I will return for it._

Winry could hear her blood rushing in her ears.

_If I do not, then do with it as you will—_

The lid snapped open on its spring hinge.

_—with the power of God._

Nestled in its black velvet, single sanguine stone winked at her in the darkness, and she immediately recognized it for what it was.

_Regards , Zolf Kimblee._


	71. Her Spine Sang

It took a moment for the depth of her alarm to fully register, and the danger of the situation she was in to process. Her breaths were panted and shallow as she snapped the box shut and buried it in the calf pocket of her pants. She could hear her heartbeat slamming in her ears. She was barely aware of sealing the crate again. Winry sank down to the flor, wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking back on her heels, holding her breath. Her pulse was thunderous.

Why.

Kimblee had known she didn't use alchemy. What use would he have thought the stone would be to her?

When she finally pushed herself back up, she danced her way around the other crates, glancing over the meticulous labeling of each as she held her breath. _Office_. Winry cracked it open and found, to her dismay, it was packed tight with boxes of paperwork. If there had been a letter that had come with the Stone, her grandmother would have had the good sense to hide it — if not burn it. The task of looking through each slip was so monumental that her head sank down to rest on the splintering wood before she drew herself together to face her undertaking.

She was unaware of the passage of the shadows on the floorboards under the window as she leafed through. Billing statements, patient records, manuals. Winry leafed through each as quickly as her nimble fingers would allow, not even sure that what she was searching for still existed. It wouldn't have surprised her if her grandmother had destroyed it, if any note had come at all. She wouldn't have recognized Kimblee's Sun and Moon seal. Maybe she'd thought it was from the Elrics and they were sending it to them for safe keeping. Maybe that was why Pinako had been so angry when Illumi had gone to Resembool in Winry's place; because she wouldn't entrust the transport of the Philosopher's Stone to anyone else if she didn't absolutely have to. And it wouldn't have been safe to communicate it through mail or telegram.

Winry plucked through paper after paper, chewing on her lower lip until it was raw and she tasted blood. Her fingers opened a folder, and something made her pause. She sucked in a breath as she sat unmoving, waiting for the realization to show itself now that instinct had stilled her. What was the folder? Order forms for chemicals.

They weren't chemicals used in the fabricating process, she could see that much from a cursory glance. No, these were chemicals to alter hues. They very seldom had requests for colored automail; most people preferred the natural look of steel, sometimes dark grey or black. There was occasionally someone, however, who wanted to change the tone of their automail. These were the chemicals used to do it. Winry flipped past the forms to a thin manual attached behind them; it listed the chemicals to use on specific metals to achieve a desired color. The first page was shades of grey; pearl, gunmetal, soot. Blues; cobalt, navy, lapis. Greens; emerald, pea, sage. She turned to the next page and swallowed hard.

Reds; scarlet, maroon, carmine. And a folded paper.

The vermillion seal of the State Alchemist offices was unbroken on its seam. If this was all her grandmother had received she undoubtedly would have believed it to have come from Edward or Alphonse.

She broke it now.

At first she didn't understand what she was looking at. For all her medical and mechanical prowess, the document was fill with jargon that, at glance, she didn't know at all. Winry leaned into the moonlight and read it from the beginning.

_I, Zolf Kimblee, being of full age and sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament—_

He left her _everything_. Winry gaped as she read over the document. He had left her a house in New Optain, and the profit from investments in the mining town of Youswell and his — her stomach knotted — service to the military. Blood money, all of it, she knew.

This had been the confirmation she hadn't received though that Kimblee was, in fact, dead. She hadn't heard what happened to him after The Promised Day, and she had known better than to ask. In a superficial way, she wasn't sure what Kimblee had looked at her and seen to earn her such trust...Yet she knew what it had been.

She'd given him the reaction he'd wanted, without even realizing she was doing it.

Acceptance.

Winry pulled the box from her calf pocket, and cracked it open, daring another peek. The Stone gleamed at her.

"What's that?"

She could feel all the color draining from her face at Hisoka's voice. Her eyes rose to see him standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Her thought processes suddenly slowed.

She had a Philosopher's Stone.

Hisoka had alchemy.

 _Hisoka_ had _alchemy_.

He took a step inside, his eyes lowering to the box in her hands. He wouldn't be able to see what was inside from that angle, but if he came closer—If he knew—

Winry snapped the box shut and laid it inside the crate of paperwork, and returned the lid to its place. If Hisoka got his hands on the Stone...

"Have you no decency?" she snarled as she straightened her back and let her hands close into fists. It was hard to breathe. Winry had never deliberately made herself cry before, but she sank herself into the pain she harbored to harness tears. Hisoka's eyes widened at the unexpectedness. She had caught him off-guard. Good. It would distract him from the box.

"Can't you let me even grieve in peace?" Winry snapped, storming toward him. If she wasn't so frightened, so deeply terrified of what would happen if he found the Philosopher's Stone, the expression on his face would have been comical. He hadn't expected this. His amber eyes began to rove around the room, taking inventory, as though trying to assess what he had walked into. That was bad, too. She did the only thing she could think of.

She shoved him.

She focused her Nen into her hands and pushed him with all her might, flinging him backward out of the room and sending him slamming into the hallway wall behind him. The startled, confused expression on his face was gone. His eyes were narrowed and his attention was focused entirely on her. She needed to keep it.

"I warn you—"

Winry slapped him.

He seized her wrist. His nostrils flared. She moved to backhand him with her free hand, but he was faster. He raised his automail and her forearm slammed into it, deflected. Pain shot past her elbow. She hissed with pain and now the tears and anger were real. Hisoka slammed his arm into her chest and she stumbled backward. He was moving too though, yanking the door to the last bedroom shut and crowding her against it. A tightness in her chest released — the door was shut. But now she had put herself in this corner, and the only way out was forward.

Her arm hurt, but she elbowed him in the gut as hard as she could. A puff of air came out of him, but he didn't seem to be affected at all otherwise. Hisoka grabbed her by her hair, receiving a shriek of surprise and pain from her, and put her facedown on the floor. His knee dug into her spine, and he pulled on her hair, yanking her head back painfully until her spine sang. Winry let out a cry of agony.

"You're testing my restraint," he hissed, and she felt the heat of his breath on her ear. She sucked in a loud gasp as Hisoka flipped her over onto her back effortlessly and leaned his knee into her stomach without mercy. Winry could feel his arousal against her bent knee. She cried out again, reaching for his leg, but he gathered both her wrists together in one hand, pinning them to the floor.

Hisoka's tongue snaked out the corner of his lips. His body was trembling with the effort of holding himself back. She wasn't primed for the pain he elicited the way she had been that night they had killed Scar, but she had to protect the Stone.

The only way out was forward.

Winry spat in his face.


	72. At The Edge Of Her

Sitting at the foot of her bed, healing her injuries one by one, her thoughts from not so long ago resurfaced.

His brand of lust too indulgent.

She fared worse this time than she had the last, and it was horrifying to think that perhaps last time Hisoka had gone easy on her. Perhaps she, too, had gone easy on him as well though. By the time their bed play was through, he had looked almost as battered as she; she’d used her Hatsu against him with less reservation than she had before. For Hisoka, sex was an act of violence, and Winry found herself alarmingly willing to reciprocate. Whether it was because he frightened her, because he repulsed her, because he enchanted her, she couldn’t be certain. It didn’t matter anyway; they were all two sides of the same coin.

As with the last time they had coupled, he was in a deep, restful sleep. She wondered if this was how he slept after fighting. If violence was the only thing that brought him peace.

The swelling of her knee had subsided, and she’d already salvaged her ankle. With one long, lingering gaze, Winry gently rose from the bed and retreated to the last bedroom.

She took the Stone from within the crate, black jewelry box and all, and nestled it under her arm. Buccaneer’s meticulous labeling again proved itself useful, she found the crate that held her grandmother’s more priceless possessions easily. None of it was of particularly great value, only sentimental. She took a few of her grandmother’s black jewelry boxes and stowed them away near the other crate, in case it occurred to Hisoka to look more closely into what she had been doing. Kimblee’s Will went into another crate. The Stone...She didn’t even know where in the world could possibly be safe enough to hide it. Everywhere seemed too obvious or clumsy. Eventually Winry took adhesive bandages and carefully taped it inside the lid to the tank of the toilet, moving as quietly as she could.

Hisoka did not stir.

She didn’t return to bed, instead limping down to her workshop. Her grandmother’s pipe sat high on a shelf; Winry took it down now, and packed it with fresh tobacco then sat outside on the step to light it. She’d done this a few times over the years, even before her grandmother’s death, and she found comfort in the ritual again now. Puffing away and surrounding herself with the familiar scent while she healed the rest of her injuries.

“Hisoka is here.”

Chrollo’s voice startled her so much that she lost her grip on the pipe, and hot ash scattered across her bare arms. She sucked in a quiet breath of pain, brushing the scalding dust off before looking for him.

He stood in the shadow of the building, spine flush against the building, and watching her with keen interest. He’d come to her dressed in his dark trench coat, with his hair slicked back. She read the expression in his gray eyes as amusement and interest; he had no concern. It took her a moment to realize she still couldn’t detect any Nen; her face gave away her thoughts, brows creasing deeply. Chrollo gave her a soft smile.

“A precaution.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I am here to assure that you are still interested in becoming my Number 11.”

Her heart thundered and raced just at the words. The Troupe. The time had come. The hole that Buccaneer had left felt filled; nay, overflowing. This was why she had sent him away. Because she had wanted this so desperately, and she had known then she wouldn’t decline.

“I am.”

“Normally,” Chrollo murmured, “you would receive a tattoo to show your place. But seeing as you have a guest...” He let his words trail off and his eyes lower to the ground knowingly. “...that will have to wait.” Winry nodded. “I am also here because I need your assistance, once more. But this time you will participate as my true compatriot.”

“Anything,” Winry heard herself breathe.

“I would need to disclose the secrets of my Nen ability to you. Please understand that requires the highest degree of trust.”

“I’ll take it to the grave.”

She knew what he was wondering though. If he knew Hisoka was here and, from the state of her, knew what they had engaged in together then he might have doubts about her loyalties. She would be lying if she said she didn’t question them still herself, but Winry knew this much: she could keep both their confidences so long as their requirements remained separate. As long as she didn’t have to choose.

She’d been right, Hisoka was not her friend. But even with the pain that accompanied that knowledge, she couldn’t eradicated her sense of inexplicable loyalty to him.

“Good. When is Hisoka leaving?”

“Tomorrow, more likely than not.”

“Then I will return the day after. Bring what you need for two weeks, but pack light.”

“Where will we be going?”

Chrollo watched her with his soft, silent consideration as he contemplated her question. She could see him weighing the risks of his answer. He might well decide not to tell her until they were en route — if he told her at all. But his hesitation said something louder, and her heart sank.

This had to do with Hisoka.

But Chrollo wouldn’t ask her to choose between them. He would simply make her act in his favor.

“Meteor City,” Chrollo at last conceded. “I will tell you more when I return for you in two days.”

Winry nodded, puffing away on her pipe, forehead so slightly creased as she watched Chrollo vanish away into the dark forest at the edge of her property line.

Two days.


	73. A Skilled Hunter

Winry had Hisoka's fingers attached and him out her door before noon the next day. He had awoken with his customary arrogance and smug smile. He'd seemed disappointed, though not surprised, that she had once again healed the damage he'd done before he had awoken and had a chance to admire his handiwork. She had a feeling Hisoka was not a man accustomed to experiencing disappointment.

She wasn't feeling particularly good about herself though when she turned away from her sink full of clean dishes to find Chrollo sitting at the small circular kitchen table behind her. He hadn't asked her to betray Hisoka by helping him, but he had to realize she was smart enough to figure it out without him spelling it out for her. But when he had looked at her expectantly, she'd nodded her head in the direction of where her satchel laid nearby, waiting and ready for this mission of betrayal. She felt the guilt plaguing her deep in her chest. Then again, she had betrayed Edward — someone she had called friend — too.

They hadn't spoken as he drove them to the airport, and their silence had extended past when they boarded the airship. It was only when Winry had begun to think that he would tell her nothing more, he began to speak.

"Most of the Troupe is already preoccupied in Meteor City, as it may be," Chrollo said suddenly, and her head turned to look at him with a measure of surprise. "A problem has arisen with some..." His expression became far-off and glassy, and Winry's brows creased together as she watched him. "Outsiders," was how he chose to finish the sentence. "We will be taking advantage of the distraction."

"What is your goal?"

"To steal a Hatsu from one of the Assembly of Elders." His expression was almost coy. "They are corrupt, using their Hatsu to send a message to the residents of Meteor City. They are undeserving of their ability. I intend to relieve them of it."

"And you'll take it for yourself," Winry said, her tone conveying that she wasn't asking; she knew.

"I did attempt to use my Lovely Ghostwriter ability to foresee how successful I would be in this endeavor alone before I came to you," he admitted. "It is the fortune telling Hatsu that I acquired in Yorknew City. I was unable to use it, however."

"Why?"

"Typically when the owner of my borrowed Hatsus dies, I lose the ability to use it anymore. I believe Hisoka has killed the Nostrade girl to prevent me from being able to anticipate the results of our upcoming fight."

Winry silently chewed on the information in her head, trying to remember whether she'd actually seen Hisoka kill anyone — for all of his violent tendencies, besides his delivery of Scar to her, she came up empty-handed. But she believed wholeheartedly he was more than.

What she remembered of the Nostrade daughter, however, was that she was just a girl of sixteen with an affinity for collecting body parts. She had harmed no one; if it was true that Hisoka had done this, then he would have killed an innocent just to narrow down how many abilities Chrollo had at his disposal.

"I have been keeping tabs on the other Nen users I have taken abilities from," Chrollo added, "in the event he attempts to hunt more of them down. But even Hisoka does not know how to find Meteor City, and this Elder has abused their position for far too long. For that you will need to know the requirements of my Hatsu; I must see the Nen ability for myself. I must ask about the ability and the owner must answer me. Their hand must touch the cover of my book, Bandit's Secret. And this must all happen within an hour."

On her own, the task would have seemed impossible. But Chrollo was a skilled hunter. He'd done this countless times before, she was certain. So Winry dug her into into the floor to ground herself.

"What's the plan?"

* * *

Chrollo was a chameleon in earnest, able to blend into his settings without hesitation. He had brought along a bag of clothes for them both. He dressed himself in _sirwal_ pants, similar to her _tobi_. He wore a plain white linen shirt under a teal vest, embroidered with gold thread. His hair was hidden beneath a skull cap and headscarf that sat low on his forehead to hide the upper part of his tattoo, and a large, convex-shaped turquoise gem contoured against his skin to mask the rest of his cross. Cuffs of hammered gold covered both his forearms — and his spider tattoo.

Her garment was more elaborate.

It was a floor length turquoise robe, which Chrollo had referred to _salwar kameez,_ embellished with intricate stitching and gems. It split at her hips so that her loose, flowing pants were unhindered for her to walk. The bodice and long sleeves, too, were elaborate. More elaborate than anything clothing she'd ever owned or worn before.

They would be foreigners from the Kakin Kingdom; upon their arrival in Meteor City, they would be taken to the Assembly of Elders. Meteor City was a city that didn't exist, and its Elders would have them brought forward to discover what their reason was for coming to Meteor City and how they had found their way there alive.

Winry would be a wealthy heiress, skilled in replacement limbs and searching for disenfranchised persons to help. Chrollo told her the Elder he was targeting wore a ventilator over his face, and he'd heard tales that the man's limbs were rotting off one by one. He would be the most intrigued by her services.

And it all happened as Chrollo had predicted. They climbed out of the small fishing vessel Chrollo had hired to bring them the last leg of the journey to Meteor City's doorstep, and were met by a group of people before they had even set foot off the dock.

Winry exchanged a glance with a calm, placid Chrollo as they were ushered into a vehicle, to be escorted to the Assembly.

* * *

_I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately I was hospitalized for a bit._

_I'm still a little out of it, but we are nearing the end of the story now. Stay tuned._


	74. A Skilled Mechanic

Meteor City was not what she had expected, and was unlike anything she had seen before. And it would be unlike anything she would ever see again. On occasion she'd heard the Troupe discuss it. She knew it was called a junkyard city, but the excessiveness of it left her breathless.

It was a wasteland of refuse. All manor of garbage lived there, piled high to surround her. Streets were carved through the hillside of rusted, broken things, curving and winding sweetly. The air smelt like blood; it was the iron wilting and sweating around her. It had its own pungent scent that she'd encountered before in small doses when someone would came in to have their rusted automail refurbished.

This was Chrollo's home.

So many questions that Winry had never consciously thought of, but had wondered were now answered. What he sought was the world he hadn't had. He wanted — coveted — a soft world. A world of velvet textures, smooth leather, rough canvas, and the warm scent of an ancient book. So he stole it all to take and have for himself. She imagined how indulgent it must feel to have left here and achieved those things, to lie down to sleep in a big, open room between sheets as crisp and clean and soft as a newborn from a fresh bath. To have those things. Winny's blue eyes turned to Chrollo and, as she had with Hisoka, in that moment she saw him for exactly who he was. And, as with Kimblee, she didn't feel fear. Only understanding.

Their eyes met, and Winry knew Chrollo saw all she had perceived in that moment, too.

That made her dangerous to him.

They sat side by side in the backseat of the car. Chrollo had not attempted to open the door, and Winry chose to follow his lead — although, in their ploy, she was to play the ringleader. He must have assumed the doors would be secured, but getting captured had been part of the plan from the beginning. Chrollo had planned this down to the most minute detail, and Winry’s faith in him was implicit. Had she ever trusted Hisoka with no reservations? At first thought, no. But, thinking on it longer, she knew that would have been a lie. She'd trained with him. Laid with him in the most vulnerable way possible.

She trusted him, and still he would not call her a friend.

That thought blunted the worst of her guilt for what would happen next.

When they arrived at what Winry could only interpret as the Capitol, her head tilted back in awe at the mountain of garbage and refuse that was the center of this kingdom. It towered high over the trash that built the rest of Meteor City, and her eyes darted over its careful structure. She felt her mouth salivating as she surveyed the immaculate welds that pulled everything together into something stable, resistant, and strong.

The cars drove through an archway, pausing for the driver to roll down his window for the guards, before continuing into a courtyard. When it stopped again, the doors opened and a pair of guards waited for them to exit. Winry resisted the urge to glance back at Chrollo as she lithely slid her legs out, her dainty shoes unfamiliar and, frankly, uncomfortable to wear at all as she stood with as much grace as she could manage. She put a hand out expectantly and a guard didn’t hesitate to offer her his arm to steady herself on as she stood. This would be her guise; she was an interloper, but not a dangerous one. She would lower their guard. Chrollo waited until she had stood and stepped away before he followed her out, immediately lowering himself to his knees and bowing before her submissively. A boy as fragile and demure as she, with his aura masked entirely with Zetsu. Behold us, we are not threats.

“Follow us,” a guard commanded.

Chrollo rose to his feet and fell in line behind her, keeping his eyes on the backs of her heels. Winry could feel the weight of his gaze, and behind it the weight of what was at stake. He’d trusted her enough to bring her to Meteor City to help him steal a power. Already Neon Nostrade was dead and her stolen ability gone. So Chrollo was resorting to stealing a new, fresh ability from someone that Hisoka wouldn’t find, and this was more trust than Winry had ever expected Chrollo to place in her. She was Hisoka’s protege. If anyone might betray Chrollo to Hisoka, it would be her.

But Chrollo believed in her.

She wondered, not for the first time, if Chrollo considered her a friend the way Hisoka did not — would not.

The inside of the Capitol was as enthralling as the exterior. Even though the walls were painted to give the illusion of structure, she could see the faint lines of the welds from underneath the way she had the exterior. She would’ve given anything in that moment to have helped to build this place. The guards led them to a towering set of doors, glancing back at her — ignoring Chrollo’s presence entirely. Good.

“Wait here,” one instructed, before slipping inside. Winry resisted the urge to fidget as she waited, keeping her hands folded in front of her. At last the guard returned.

“The Council of Elders wishes to speak to you. It would do you well to show them the respect the deserve.”

This Elder has abused their position for far too long.

She resisted the urge to cat back about the respect they deserved.

“It’s a honor,” she heard herself say instead.

The doors parted, and darkness crept out.

With their opening, a slither of cold air brushed out across her cheeks and down to her toes. Her heartbeat hiccuped with nerves. Gooseflesh rose over her skin as malice — Ren — wrapped itself around her. It wanted her to run away. Instead Winry inhaled it in deep, let the dark oxygen penetrate her lungs and thrum into her bloodstream. Inside of her. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped into it, Chrollo behind her.

A semi circle of chairs waited for her in the dark room, and each occupant was ghastlier than the last. Winry took a moment to let her eyes move from one to the next, memorizing their faces. Finding Chrollo’s target was easy. He was swathed in rags, crowned with a single swatch of cloth tied around his head. She remembered what Chrollo had said — that people whispered, his limbs were rotting off one by one. Winry couldn’t see his eyes. They were deep set, dark hollows under the shadows of his rags. A ventilator covered his nose and mouth. She could hear the gently rasp of his every breath. It was the ventilator that Chrollo had told her to look for. Winry didn’t let her eyes linger there long.

“Who are you?” a tall, sturdy-looking woman on the opposite end demanded, and Winry recognized the small name on the breastplate of the woman’s armor as a parts from the same brand stove as in her little cottage home near Heavens Arena.

“My name is Mina,” Winry announced, raising her chin. “I’m a peddler from the Kakin Kingdom.”

“A peddler?” the woman repeated, her skepticism clear.

Winry laughed, and even to herself the echo of the sound was a lovely lilt in the air.

“I have a generous inheritance,” she admitted. “But I am also a skilled mechanic. I’ve been trained to replace lost limbs with mechanical ones—”

“Stop—” a low voice rasped breathlessly, “—talking.”

Every head turned to look to the Chrollo’s targeted elder, and Winry had to remind herself to breathe.

“Come — with — me.”

He did not rise from his seat. It was then that Winry saw the wheels fixated to it. A cane snaked out from under his ragged robes and he used it as leverage to pull himself forward. One wheel squeaked quietly as his chair rolled toward her.

A guard came forward to walk at her side as they followed the elder into the next room, the darkness of his malicious Ren preceding them.


	75. A Skilled Killer

Shadows emitted from every crevice and recess, coiling in closer through the faint lines of the welds on the walls like veins. Dark veins filled with dark intent. It was thicker than night — like black oil. Familiar. She had lived this before, she had confronted this before. She could feel it swallow her ankles, then her legs. Her chest. The darkness slithered up her shoulders and around her neck. She couldn’t surrender to it now.

Winry shuddered under the sensation, losing the control over her breathing as she sucked down a quiet, quick gasp of air. Then it slid across her chin.

The fear left.

She took in one strong inhalation, then forced herself to gaze at the elder with defiant eyes.

Through the shadows of his wrappings hiding his gaze, Winry could feel that he wanted to swallow her whole. She wouldn’t let him.

“A peddler,” the elder rasped from beneath his trappings, and a wheel of his chair gave a sharp shriek until he came to a stop. “But — you know — Nen.”

“Nen?” Winry asked, intentionally doe-eyed. “Is that what you call it here? I did notice your aura. It’s formidable.”

“I exist — to protect — this city.”

“I use mine in my work,” she lied nimbly. But it was a lie she could back up through demonstration if she needed to. She didn’t let her eyes wander to Chrollo through this; he was to play her subordinate. She shouldn’t look to him unnecessarily.

“Yes — your work. Tell me — more.”

“I build mechanical prosthetic limbs.”

“The residents — of my city — could benefit — from your work.” They were almost the words she’d wanted to hear. Winry forced her face to light up, beaming as though she were the only light in the room. “But first—” Her heart skipped a beat. “—a demon—demo—” She heard him wheeze in a breath through the respirator, struggling with the lengthy word. He dissolved into a fit of coughs. Behind them she heard a door open, and Winry glanced over her shoulder. One of the other elders was gazing in, and a guard stepped forward to assist him. The guard set a tank on the ground beside the chair, then fished a tube from beneath the elder’s robes and connected it to the tank. The elder’s distress slowly subsided.

“I cannot replace internal organs,” Winry said quietly. “But I could replace limbs that hinder you, to reduce strain on the body.”

“A demon — stration — would be — required,” he gasped like a fish. “—before you — could help — my people.”

“I would need a volunteer,” she answered, inclining her head ever so slightly, realizing immediately the angle he was playing.

“I am — available.”

“When could we begin?” Winry asked.

“Now.”

A crack echoed through the room, and it took Winry a moment to realize the sound had emanated from a snap of the elder’s fingers. A guard advanced toward him. She couldn’t hear what the elder whispered to him, but she watched as the guard lowered his head in submission then began to unwrap the elder’s swaddling from around his body.

She could smell the rot before she could see it.

He stunk of putrid meat. Winry fought the overwhelming urge to cover her nose, instead taking small, shallow breaths — except then she could taste it in her mouth. As the last layer of cloth were removed, she could see the gaping sores that covered his arms and legs. They were wet, and gleamed with pus and fester.

“Come — close.”

Winry bit the sides of her tongue as she advanced toward him, her stomach churning as the smell intensified with every step she took, and she struggled not to gag. He extended his arms in her direction, fingers splayed. She watched as his muscles spasmed and clenched with the strain of the effort. She noticed was a maggot curled in one of the wounds, the subtle movements of its body like the ocean waves. Then Winry saw his hands.

“You — are — repulsed,” the elder said, and she could hear the wicked satisfaction in his voice. “Your — pulse — quic — kened.”

“Your body has been devastated by infection,” Winry admitted, but that hadn’t been the cause for the skyrocket of her heart. Not at all. She had seen the markings on his hands.

“Ones who kill are also chased by death,” Kimblee’s memory whispered in her ear. “Always living alongside death.”

The Sun and the Moon stared up at her, and the enormity of the hand Fate had dealt to her was nigh impossible to shoulder. The finality of the realization that it had always been meant to come to this.

“I don’t know that I will be able to preserve the tattoos on your hands,” she said, drawing a coiled cloth tape measure from a pocket. She leaned over him, unrolling it against his arm. “Are they ceremonial?”

Then, over her shoulder to Chrollo she called, “Boy, assist me.”

She heard Chrollo’s subtle footsteps approaching her from behind, and she dictated to him, “Write down these measurements. Shoulder to wrist, twenty-five inches.”

“No — they are — for — my Hatsu.”

“From elbow to forearm, eleven and three-quarter inches. I will need to know about your Hatsu to know how to best preserve it when I create your prosthetics,” Winry said.

“My Liege,” Chrollo asked, keeping his eyes down. “Please tell me about your Hatsu so that I may make notes of it for my Mistress?”

The elder’s face reddened with rage. The audacity to be questioned by a mere slave boy. But he wanted what she had to offer, and when Winry did not rebuke Chrollo herself, he at last answered.

“I mark them — with a symbol — from each — hand,” he rasped, and even as weak as he was, she could hear the boasting in his tone. “When the — two marks — touch they — will combust.”

He was a skilled killer.

“Your symbols explode?” Chrollo asked, writing down what the elder said while Winry took the next measurement.

“Shoulder to elbow, twelve and one-quarter.”

“No — what they — are affix — fixed onto — is the — bomb.”

“Only humans?” Chrollo asked.

“As are — the Sun — and Moon — humans — and puppets — they are but — two sides — of the — same coin.”

Winry had to touch him to support his arm for her next measurement; his shaking had become so profound.

“Circumferences from shoulder to wrist; eleven and seven-eights, ten and three-quarters, six and five-eighths. Bring me the book.”

This had been the hardest part during their plotting, and to even Winry’s surprise the solution had been one she provided. Not Chrollo. If she hadn’t seen his book before that day on the airship, then she might not have been able to think of it.

Chrollo closed the book of his notes, Bandit’s Secret, and knelt before the elder, holding it out.

“Lay your hand here on the mark, Liege,” Winry instructed, and I will take a photograph for reference for the size of your hand.”

And the Elder did as he was bid, laying the hand with the Moon on its palm flat over the handprint on the cover. Winry took the photo with a small camera then returned the device to her pocket, and Chrollo back away with the book.

There was only one step left to complete for Chrollo’s requirements to be fulfilled.

“I will need a demonstration of your ability as well,” Winry said as she began the measurements of his other arm, “so that I am able to at worst preserve it in its current form, but — at best — engineer something to amplify its awesome power.”

A coarse, dry laugh coughed out behind the ventilator. His fingers snapped one last time for the guard’s attention, and she wondered absently whether it hurt the elder to do.

“Bring me—” he rasped, “someone — to sacrifice.”


	76. Plume

Winry’s blood felt electric. It crackled and hummed in her arteries and veins, where its current buzzed and grounded itself in the seat of her soul. What she had seen in Meteor City had given her a belief in God that even the darkness of the Promised Day had left hollow. Whatever father had been, he had been a product of alchemy — science. This ability, the Sun and the Moon, was something Other.

She hadn’t brought her grandmother’s pipe with her for this trip so, instead, the hand-rolled cigarillo she’d bummed off a passing stranger trembled between her lips instead. Chrollo had dozed off in his seat on the airship beside her with his head propped up with one hand, an open book across his lap. Winry spared glances of trepidation in his direction every few seconds.

Even with alchemy, Hisoka may not be able to win.

The elder’s demonstration had been horrific. They had brought in a child — a small boy dressed in rags. And, once marked, the elder had instructed him to go into a clearing and clap his hands. Winry’s composure had never been so tested before and her instincts told her that was exactly why a child had been chosen.

Chrollo’s demonstration, however, had demonstrated precisely what made him so dangerous.

As they had reached the docks where they left their small boat to leave Meteor City, a somber horn had blasted across the landscape, hitting a melancholy note. They both turned to look back, and saw a plume of black smoke creep from the highest chimney vent of Meteor City’s makeshift skyline.

Chrollo had startled her then, swinging around to kick the rocks at his feet, scattering them violently in an uncharacteristic display of rage. Winry’s steps had hiccuped to a stop as she’d looked at him wide-eyed.

“An elder has died,” Chrollo spat, pointing behind them in the direction of the baleful sound and smoke. “All the elders were of sound health except that one.”

Winry had watched, chewing on her lip, as he took Bandit's Secret from where he kept it, flipping through the pages, looking for the Sun and the Moon. If the elder was dead, he would lose the ability. Everything that they had just gone through would be for naught. She did not know how Chrollo intended to utilize the power — certainly he wouldn’t be able to deceive Hisoka into complying so easily as the now dead child. He had to have a plan ready to use, and this ability had doubtlessly been critical to its execution.

If the elder had died, then his ability would vanish from Chrollo’s book the way Neon Nostrade’s had.

She craned her head to see around Chrollo’s broad shoulders. The ink of every page flashed back, stark black against the white paper. It felt like a punch to the gut to see the sheer number of abilities he had stolen — dozens. Perhaps a couple hundred, each of them at his disposal. Hisoka’s Bungee Gum and Texture Surprise were versatile and well-suited to Hisoka’s methods and creativity, but Chrollo’s options were intimidating...and he was just as creative as Hisoka, only in different ways.

Chrollo found the page, and Winry felt her brows furrow together in confusion and surprise. The Sun and the Moon. It was there, but the text was no longer in the perfect black that Chrollo had used to write it only an hour earlier. The ink was faded and gray. But, she thought Chrollo said the ability left his book entirely when the user died?

“Is it there?” Winry asked. “Can you use it?”

Chrollo’s dark eyes rose, fixated on the man sitting on an upside-down bucket while he watched the boats, fingers plucking at the bushy mess of his grey-streaked beard. A teenager sat beside him.

“Sir,” Chrollo said, and the man glanced up. “Can you two help me with something?”

Winry struck a match and her shaking hands chased the trembling end of her cigarillo. She gasped and nearly lost the cigarillo from between her lips as Chrollo’s hand closed over hers, guiding the match to light the end before blowing it out. Her eyes darted to him.

Fear, she realized. Her blood ran cold with it. She had been frightened of Hisoka in many ways — he was sadistic and cruel, but she had never considered Chrollo to be as such. What she’d watched him do on the pier had changed everything.

He was worse.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Winry-san,” Chrollo said. The expression in his eyes was deceptive and soft. “If you say no, I will understand.”

She deeply doubted that.

“Yes?” she asked.

“For my match with Hisoka, I have specific abilities I intend to use. But to have yours would be a boon...” He gave her a kind smile. “May I borrow your ability?”


	77. The Sun, The Moon, The Coin

**The Sun and The Moon are two sides of the Same Coin.**

* * *

If you believe Winry would choose to back **Chrollo**

please continue to _Chapter 78 – The Sun and The Moon (Finale)_

_# # #_

If you believe Winry would choose to back **Hisoka**

please return at the publication of _Chapter 84 – The Same Coin (Finale)_


	78. The Sun and The Moon — Together

"Borrow my ability?" Winry asked in a hiss of breath.

His question had caught her entirely off-guard, and her control over her facial expressions slipped. She could feel the shock and horror showing from beneath her mask. Chrollo reached out and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear casually. If he was put off by her reaction, it didn't show.

"Yes. I can borrow abilities for a short duration of time if I so choose," he explained. "It would not be a permanent arrangement. But you would be without your Hatsu while I have it."

She mulled over the idea in her head. She hadn't forgotten all else that had happened over the last few weeks...The trust he had shown her by involving her in their plot in Yorknew City — and letting her leave with the loot. He was looking at her to take Uvogin's place in the Troupe. He had entrusted her with the secrets of his Nen ability.

"The plan after the match," Chrollo continued while she continued to chew on his request, "would be that after the match with Hisoka, we will induct you into the Troupe. After that is done, we will leave for the Dark Continent — the Troupe together."

He knew the right words.

We.

The Troupe.

Together.

Winry doubted Hisoka even knew what the words _we_ and _together_ meant.

This was her make or break moment. This decision was the dark visitor she had dreaded the arrival of, that she had known would eventually knock on her door. Since the very beginning it had been Hisoka v. Chrollo and she had carefully balanced herself between the two men for two years. It was question of if, not a question of when, time would run out.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Hisoka the Magician, or Chrollo Lucilfer.

She had seen what Chrollo intended to do with the Sun and the Moon; it was

"Chrollo," she whispered, certain he could hear her thundering heart, "if you need my ability, consider it yours." He bowed his head and the smallest smile crossed his lips. "But if you are going to fight Hisoka, there is something you need to know."

His brow rose.

"A long time ago, Hisoka followed me to my home country — he taught me combat and how to use Nen. But while we were there, we stayed with a master of alchemy."

The atmosphere changed with Chrollo's immediate recognition that something dangerous was afoot. She'd had his attention before, but it was a rapt and unwavering now.

"Hisoka can use alchemy," Chrollo said slowly, his intelligent eyes already comprehending his situation. "You are across the sea — from Amestris, yes? Not Xing?"

Winry sat up a little straighter.

"Yes."

"I am not completely unfamiliar with your alchemy," he admitted. "I have not witnessed it with my own eyes, but I am well-read and some of the books I've gotten my hands on have gone into some detail on the matter. I've also read about your lost country of Xerxes." Chrollo leaned in close, intimately, as he reached in his breast pocket, and there was a jingle as he brought his fingers out. Winry counted the thirteen silver coins he laid out; just over ten million Jenī. "I do not consider Judas to be a traitor," Chrollo cajoled. "Tell me everything you know about Hisoka's alchemy."


	79. The Sun and The Moon — Raise You Above Them

Winry could feel her pulse in every part of her body as she slid her key into the lock, and turned it. Chrollo was at her back, dark eyes roving and alert as he kept watch. She felt certain that somehow Hisoka knew what she had done. Like a twig snapping to alert the hunter. He would be waiting for her. He would come down from a tree on a thread of his bungee gum, like a spider, and snap her neck as she walked by.

But they had to come back here.

The door opened and stepping inside her house felt like falling into arms that meant safety. In reality it was no safer than outside, but it felt better. It was her territory. Chrollo followed her in, locking the door behind him audibly. She let her bag fall from her shoulder and it landed on the floor with a thump. Her foot kicked it accidentally on its way down.

"You suit this place," Chrollo said. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw approval. Winry smiled. "But you suit the Troupe better."

Perhaps, more than anything else, this was Chrollo's greatest ability — not Lovely Ghostwriter, the Sun and the Moon, or any of the other stolen abilities in his book. It was his ability to bring people in. It was his ability to open his arms and have people want to come into his circle. The unwanted, the pariahs, the black sheep, the outcasts found their home with him. He wanted them all. He brought them all in and they were his devotees. And she was one of them now.

"Up here," she said, leading him to the stairs.

She knew them by now and her feet avoided the loud boards with confidence. Chrollo followed in her footsteps perfectly and he didn't make a sound on his way up the steps behind her. Where she stepped, he stepped. He trusted her. Yet again he was showing her how much he trusted her. It was her turn to show him how deeply she trusted him in return.

"Here," Winry whispered, leading him down the hall to her bathroom.

Chrollo watched with interest while she took the lid off the toilet and carefully peeled the adhesive tape from its inside. Moisture had loosened them slightly, but they had held.

"A Philosopher's Stone," he said in awe, and the seldom-seen expression of surprise overtook his face as she carefully peeled it free from the bandages. A pinprick of red reflected in his wide, dark eyes as Winry held it between her thumb and ring finger for him to see. The galloping of her heart was tremendous. Pounding. Thum-thum. Thum-thum. "How did this come into your possession?"

"Friends in the right places."

"It would appear so."

Winry extended her arm in his direction, still holding the Stone. Chrollo paused, his eyes moving between her and the Stone with what she could only interpret as apprehension.

"It could make you a wealthy woman. A wealthy, formidable, truly dangerous woman. Kings would raise you above them." He paused, appraising her. "I have heard there's a Prince of Xing who is in need of a bride."

Her nose wrinkled. Faint lines creased around Chrollo's eyes as he smiled at her response with amusement.

"How am I intended to use this?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Give it to me anyway, I suppose. If I cannot use it, then nothing changes with it being in my possession."

"You cannot let it fall into Hisoka's hands."

"I will guard it with my life. But, for your part, you cannot on the floor during the fight. You will need to be with the rest of the Troupe. They will in my suite."

Another display of profound trust; he was telling her where the rest of the Troupe would be while his fight with Hisoka was ongoing. She was one of them to him — she was, in earnest, the eleventh leg of the Spider.


	80. The Sun and The Moon — A Battle To The Death

The bite of the needle was less than what Winry had expected. All of her experience was with medical needles and she had thought it would be more similar to the sensation of a hypodermic needle. But as Shizuku ran the tattoo gun across the soft skin of her outer thigh, it was nothing she had thought it would be. It was a stinging, persistent vibration that dulled the longer it went on.

The blue tracing outline of the spider on her leg made her heart race. She was ready for this indoctrination. From the moment she had laid her eyes on the Troupe at the airport in Maycape, she had felt the fine fibers of Fate — like a spider's web — drawing her to Chrollo. To them. Even from the start. This was the endgame she had always been destined for. It was what she had left Amestris to discover, even if she hadn't realized it then. Perhaps this was what everything had been for, right down to Kimblee and the Promised Day.

Number eleven.

Machi crouched down beside where Winry laid; "I may need your help." Winry's brows perked as she waited for the other woman to expand on her words. "Hisoka wired me money to repair his injuries, in the event of his death. I couldn't repair all of his wounds last time — I may need your help again this time. I will split my commission with you."

"I can do that," Winry agreed. Although Chrollo had asked for license to use her ability, he had not taken her up on the option. She was free to help Machi.

"The fight's starting," Nobunaga said. His tone was sharp — he wanted quiet. It took no urging. They all wanted to see what would come of this. The tension between Hisoka and Chrollo had been building before Winry had even entered the picture. This reckoning was due.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The opponent the elusive "Grim Reaper" has picked for this Floor Master battle...! Here for his first match as Floor Master! His name is—"

Shizuku lifted the needle to stop tattooing for a moment, and Phinks grabbed one end of the couch Winry laid on, turning it so that it faced the television. Shizuku settled back into her place, continuing to fill in the blue outline of the spider on Winry's thigh, eyes darting up every few moments to look at the screen with the rest of them.

"Chrollo Lucilfer verse Hisoka Morrow!"

Winry couldn't breathe as she digested the sight of the two men, squared off and standing face-to-face in the arena. Chrollo's hair was haphazard and uncharacteristically wild. The tattoo on his forehead was uncovered and there for all to see. His left hand was curled into a fist at his side while he leisurely touched his chin with the other. Across from him, Hisoka stood with the back of his hand on his hip, pristine in his whites, and his lips wet. Neither man was mic'd up for the fight; instead there were booms over the arena. The crowd cheered — _Raah! Raah!_ — and Winry thought back to the two men on the dock in Meteor City.

_"He will be so primed to fight me by that point that he will agree to whatever terms I lay in place. It will not be advantageous for him."_

She would not choose to be in the crowd tonight.

"Finally," Hisoka said with a slow smile. "...My dream is realized. I've waited this long — I don't want a friendly sparring match. "

"I know." Chrollo nodded his acknowledgement of Hisoka's request. "Being pursued has become annoying. This will be a battle to the death."

Hisoka inclined his head. "Okay."

"WOW!" the commentator's voice said over the jeering of the arena. "Floor Master Chrollo proposes a battle to the death! And Hisoka consents! Mortal combat it is! Only one will survive! Victory is on through the other's death!"

"The use of weapons is allowed," the referee said, taking his place between the two men. Winry could see a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. Or mayhap it was a tear, because deep inside he certainly had to know he'd never make it out of the arena alive. "For your pride and honor...Let's fight!"

Winry hadn't blinked, she hadn't taken her eyes off the two men, but already Chrollo had Bandit's Secret in his hand and she didn't know where he had taken it from. She hadn't seen him move. Hisoka hadn't moved yet either. The arena had gone quiet and a small gasp echoed through the microphone's. The screen switched to a camera that was focused in on the referee; his eyes had gone wide. The screen switched again. There was an antenna sticking out of the back of the referee's spine.

"Hey, ain't that yours?" Phinks said, and heads swiveled to Shalnark.

"Black Voice: Mobile Fate Director," Chrollo said in the ring, holding up the phone.

"I see."

"He left Hisoka hanging after the exorcism in order to gather his cards," Machi murmured admiringly.

Except then Chrollo drew out a second antenna. The judge and Chrollo lunged toward Hisoka, synchronized, and Winry saw immediately what Chrollo's goal was — to pin Hisoka with the judge, and stab Hisoka with the other antenna. Chrollo's movements were too quick to track on the television as he closed in on Hisoka, levying stomp after stomp. Winry's breath was caught in her chest as she waited for Hisoka to escape. She waited for the alchemy to defend himself. Instead Hisoka used his Bungee Gum to escape his predicament.

"Chrollo wants him to be vigilant of the antenna," Shalnark said casually from where he sat. "In order to wear Hisoka down. He wants Hisoka to know this will be a drawn-out battle."

"I'm so happy, Chrollo," Hisoka crooned. "You make me feel... _so good."_

A small thunder crack and a rupture of light and blood disrupted the television, and Hisoka was dodging away from the judge. Chrollo stood behind the judge, hands in the air, and Nobunaga rose to his feet. Shizuku paused to watch. The judge's eyes rolled back in his head, up toward the sky, but the life had already flickered away. His knees went out under him then the weight of his body let him collapse onto his face, and Winry could see his eyes no more.

"What are those?" he demanded as the camera zoomed in on the tattoos on the backs of Chrollo's hands. Winry's breathing quickened as she sat upright. But they weren't seeing it yet — Chrollo's greatest achievement.

"The Sun and the Moon: Paired Destruction," Chrollo said in simple response to Hisoka's alarmed expression.

"But where's the book?" Phinks whispered, at last seeing it.

"As you can see, it uses both hands," Chrollo continued. "When the marks touch each other, they explode. The marks themselves can be made in an instant, but for maximum effect I need to touch the target for three to five seconds."

"Hmph," Hisoka squared his shoulders.

"I gained this ability back home...in Meteor City."

"When did Chrollo go to Meteor City?" Shalnark asked. Winry said nothing.

"Are you being condescending, or are you really expecting me to just bend over?" Hisoka asked.

"I won't take another draw step," Chrollo replied coolly. "I'll play with my hand face up." He smiled. "Style is important in a game, right? More than the outcome."

"Won't you be more insistent on winning? Don't be such a turn-off," Hisoka pouted.

"Of course, I plan to win. What about yourself?" Hisoka said nothing. "Think carefully before you call after seeing my hand." Chrollo drew a simple bookmark. "Double Face: Bookmark Theme. Like I just demonstrated, by using a Bookmark, I can maintain that page's ability even after closing the book. I can use it concurrently with an ability on another page."

"As long as you can fight comfortably," Hisoka smiled. And, in that moment, he looked devastatingly handsome. He simply glowed with excitement under Chrollo's attention. "A battle is a dance...We must move to each other's beat."

"I only have one Bookmark, by the way. Being able to make a combo of two abilities is powerful, but the true advantage of the Bookmark is not having to hold the book.

"Skill Hunter required me to hold the book with my right hand when I conceived it. But when I stole an ability that required both hands—" Winry's gaze briefly trailed away from the television. "—I was forced to make some adjustments. Now I have more annoying conditions to deal with, but I find that my combat efficiency has vastly improved. I can use one ability with both hands free. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Hmph."

"With that in mind...I'll show you three more abilities. You're setting a new record for the number of abilities it has ever taken me to kill someone. You should be proud."

Except Winry hadn't forgotten that Hisoka could use alchemy. She doubted Chrollo had either, though, as he drew a stamp from places unknown.

"Order Stamp: Proof of Humanity," he said simply. "Shalnark's Black Voice manipulates humans. _This_ one manipulates puppets, but can't give complex commands."

"So the phone is for the finish. Humans and puppets can't be controlled together. Is there another plan?" Hisoka said.

Chrollo tucked his Bookmark inside Bandit's Secret, and away the book went as he knelt beside the referee. "You've seen this one before."

The expression on Hisoka's face would have been comical, had his life not been in the balance, as Chrollo knelt and laid his palm flush against the dead referee's shoulder. Winry already knew what would come next; she had watched Chrollo conduct his experiments on the dock in Meteor City. A perfect replica of the dead referee materialized to Chrollo's right; this was Kortopi's ability.

"To me," he mused, "a corpse and a puppet are similar inanimate objects...but not to the former owner of Order Stamp. A corpse cannot be controlled, but its copy can." Chrollo rose to his feet. "Get up."

The dead referee's copy dragged itself up to its feet, wavering slightly before finding stable footing. It's eyes were wide, somehow overly animated and still wildly dead. The tension in Hisoka's shoulders shifted with his stance. Winry wondered what Hisoka was thinking now, watching this scene unfold. Perhaps he was wondering whether he could defeat Chrollo at all, even with alchemy. But Hisoka did not launch an attack — he was waiting for Chrollo to uphold his promise, to show his hand before Hisoka called.

"For the former owner, the difference between a puppet and one that ceased to be one is whether the head is connected to the torso." Chrollo didn't take his eyes off his opponent, his left arm raising to point. He utter a single command: "Break Hisoka."

The copy referee charged without hesitation, and Hisoka widened the stance of his legs in preparation for the attack. Before him, Chrollo continued, unperturbed.

"How it accepts commands depends on the puppet too. It reflects its original personality. It may focus on inefficient methods or assume the deed is done before the target is truly dead. In the worst cases, some puppets outright ignore the order. But change the command to break..."

The copy reached Hisoka then, and it tracked Hisoka like prey even as the Magician nimbly turned to evade the attack. He had to quick step to avoid the copy's hands.

"...and they get to work on severing the head." Chrollo smiled, and Winry felt herself smiling along with him. "Making the ability yours while exploring the darkness within the soul of the original owner. **_That's_** the true pleasure of a Skill Hunter."

The copy lunged for Hisoka again, but Hisoka didn't try to avoid him this time. He seized the referee with one hand on top of his head and another digging into his chin, and twisted. A sickening crack of bone shot through the booms and out the television speakers, but Hisoka didn't stop twisting. He wrenched the head around until it ripped from the neck, severing messily. Spectators gasped. Hisoka turned back to Chrollo, dropping the head without so much as a smile. Blood splattered over his whites.

"Correct," Chrollo answered to Hisoka's unspoken question, "sever the head and the puppet stops — the Stamp disappears."

"And the last one?" Hisoka asked, his tongue sliding across his lips, tantalized. Winry shuddered.

"This." Chrollo held his hands up once more for Hisoka, but with his palms held outward and fingers splayed this time. There were new tattoos. One was a white arrow with a black ground, while the other had the colors inverted. "I can use my left hand while holding the book, but I use the Bookmark when I want to use the right. The ability remains in effect so long as I hold the book open, even if I remove the Bookmark."

Hisoka's lips pursed. This was bad news for him indeed, Winry knew.

"Touch with my right hand, and the target takes my form. Touch with my left hand, and I take on the form of the target. Touch with both hands, and we instantly switch forms. It'll be easy to figure out which is real," Chrollo reassured him. "I'm the one with the arrows on my palms."

In this moment, as the camera panned the two men, laying plain the difference between them, Winry wondered if perhaps Chrollo had Hisoka outclassed...even if Hisoka had alchemy. She had seen the terrifying bits and pieces of his destructive thoughts on the dock at Meteor City, she had known he was frightening and calculated, but this...She had not known then all of the abilities Chrollo intended to wield and how they would interact and unfold. Chrollo, the Head of the Spider, was tremendously cunning.

"All to defeat you," Chrollo finished, the slightest upturn of his lips.

Hisoka took a step forward, then another.

"So...that it for the lecture, right? Time to get this started."

"One more thing. I'll offer you the most important bit of information."

Hisoka's chin raised slightly, waiting. He had waited this long, after all. What were a few more seconds to him? Chrollo drew his Bookmark, letting it dangle from his fingers.

"The abilities in my book vanish, never to be used again when the person I stole them from dies. But one of the abilities I just explained is an ability that remains in the book even after death."

Hisoka's eyes widened and his lips parted. His footsteps paused. Then his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed once more, realizing on his own what Chrollo had had to explain to her on the shore.

"Nen that becomes stronger after death." Chrollo smiled. "Looks like you get it. This came as a surprise to me too.

"The original owner was Meteor City's elder. Unlike Order Stamp's owner, the elder thought there wasn't much difference between humans and puppets. I tend to agree." One final pause. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yes," Hisoka nodded. "The Sun and the Moon, once marked, cannot be removed."

"Exactly. Whether I close the book or put it away, they remain until the bomb goes off. That's the end of the explanation. I'm not saying this as a challenge, but I'll win. I'm one hundred percent sure. Will you continue?"

Hisoka had no hesitation, and even now, Winry felt admiration for him for that. "Of course."


End file.
